All This And Heaven Too
by Sheherazade's Fable
Summary: XMFC AU. After Kurt's birth Azazel takes him to the Alps to be raised him away from the world. But when Kurt grows up that safety is threatened by a woman named Amanda Sefton. Follows up to X2. Inspired by the X-men episode 'Nightcrawler.' Canon pairings.
1. Chapter 1

_December 1, 1966_

Matthew was, by no means, a superstitious man. He was religious; otherwise he wouldn't have been a monk. However, unlike most of the other monks at the St. Christopher monastery in the Alps, he had grown up in a city. He'd been training as a teacher before his conversion in a school set up in West Germany by Americans. As such he felt that science had a decent say in the world though he believed his religion to be superior.

Even so, when he had first seen the lost traveler lying in the snow he'd started. It was, of course, his duty to take in travelers. The monastery had a long history of doing so, dating all the way back to the Middle Ages. It was why he was out here in the first place, making a safe circuit around the monastery in case anything was wrong. However, he was sure that in all of the years of the order they had never come across quite such an unusual traveler.

His first thought when he saw him was that he was looking at the Devil, but he banished it quickly. If the Devil were indeed in the snowy mountains then he wouldn't have collapsed in the snow and he wouldn't need the pack on his back. It was logical, although Matthew was surprised at just how logical he could be in the circumstances.

He crouched down by the man, a term used because it was the only thing that he was prepared to believe that he was. The storm was getting worse by the second and, if he didn't want the man to freeze to death, he'd have to take him in. The only problem was his more superstitious brethren; certainly they wouldn't spare a thought about letting someone who looked so much like a demon perish from the elements.

Even he had his own doubts. The devil did have his tricks, didn't he? However, these last lingering thoughts were brushed away when he heard a small cry. The man was protectively holding what looked like a baby, although it was hard to tell. The baby looked quite a bit like the man except for his deep blue skin. That could have been from the cold, but Matthew doubted it.

It made up his mind. Summoning up his strength he managed to drag the man and the baby into a side room. Matthew tripped once or twice on his way there, the chill and the weight of his cargo getting to him. However, he did manage to get them there without alerting any of the other monks.

Exhausted he propped the man and the child onto one of the spare cots. He was getting older, and a little fat in his sedentary life style. He'd have to work on that. With that thought in mind he set to kindling a fire in the room. The stone absorbed heat well and in a minute the room was at a better temperature.

He brought the baby closer to it first, wrapping it in a blanket laying it out on a cushioned chair. It made sense to give the child preference, it was obviously more delicate and had been exposed to the cold for far too long. Matthew had to admire how expertly it had been bundled up; the child probably wouldn't have survived otherwise.

By his estimation the child was only a few months old. He wasn't sure; he'd never seen a baby with a tail before. However, the boy seemed to be doing fine. Matthew smiled. He was going to make it. He made sure that he was settled before turning his thoughts to the man, wondering perhaps if he was the child's father or brother. Either would make sense.

Something cold pressed up against his throat. Matthew froze.

"Stay away from him," a voice hissed.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw that the man was up. Matthew swallowed which just made the knife press deeper. Calmly he tried to collect his wits. The man had spoken in German, although his words were broken. He was foreign and, judging by the lilt of his accent, probably Russian. Not that it made that much of a difference.

"I have done nothing," he said calmly, "Simply brought in a man and a child from the cold. Is the boy your son?"

"None of business," the man snapped, "Where are we?"

"St. Christopher's monastery in the Alps," he said, surprised at how level he managed to keep his voice, "Our patron saint is the one of travelers."

"I know," snorted the man.

"Ah, then you know that as such our order is dedicated to helping wayward travelers?" asked Matthew sharply, "I was not harming him; simply trying to make sure that he wasn't frost bitten."

Slowly the knife was removed from his throat. The man didn't put the knife away though and was still looking at him suspiciously. Matthew moved to the side and allowed the man to approach the baby. He put away his knife and picked it up. It cooed and reached for his face. He began whispering to it in what Matthew could only assume was Russian. He had never been that learned.

When he was done ascertaining that the baby was indeed alright he put him down again.

"I make mistake," he said.

"Yes," Matthew said, "You did. Now, my name is Brother Matthew. I am a monk here."

"Da, I can see that," the man said, "I am Azazel."

Matthew's heart stuttered for a moment before his eyes narrowed.

"That is not funny," he said.

"My friends thought it was," Azazel said drily, "Still do not think I am demon?"

There was a slight smirk in his words. Matthew felt a mixture of irritation and anger rise in him.

"A demon would not have tried to protect his son," he said.

Azazel's smirk slipped for a moment before he turned his eyes to the child.

"Thank you," he said simply, "Not for me, for him."

"I told you," said Matthew, "It is my duty to help travelers."

"Refugees better term," said Azazel, "But he is so small."

He looked miserable for a second before hardening his face and putting the child down.

"Now," Matthew said, "is there anything you need?"

Azazel raised an eyebrow.

"It's cold out," said Matthew, "I…some of my brethren are more superstitious than others. It might be safer for the two of you to stay in here."

Azazel snorted and sat down on the edge of the cot.

"Them and rest of world," he said.

Feeling perplexed Matthew sat down on another chair. Outside the storm howled loudly.

"You may be staying here for a while," sighed Matthew, "These storms will often last for days, sometimes months."

"Nyet."

"Pardon?"

Rolling his eyes Azazel disappeared in a puff of black smoke. He reappeared inches away from Matthew. Matthew coughed and looked at him with wide eyes.

"How else you think I survive?" he asked.

"That's incredible," Matthew said.

Azazel laughed.

"You have not seen what I have," he said, "Makes no difference. We will leave when storm lessens and I can see where I am going."

"Alright," Matthew said, "But in the mean time the two of you will stay here until you have recovered. And, as I said, it may be better for you not to leave this room."

"Da, da, I understand," Azazel said, waving his hand dismissively.

The storm would, in the end, last for a week. In that time Matthew made surreptitious trips down to the side room with food for them, although he highly suspected that Azazel may have teleported around the monastery. Matthew made sure to have the only key, but he doubted that that would be a real obstacle to someone like Azazel.

The teleportation was a strange thing, something that Matthew was constantly getting used to. Azazel told him that the only reason he'd faltered in the snow was because he'd used it too much, but he seemed adept at casually using it around the room if he needed to get something that was out of arms reach.

The more he heard about it the more he thought about it. An idea was entering Matthew's head, though he was almost scared to voice it. Azazel didn't seem to be the type he would normally want for a job like this, but Matthew had seen what he was capable of. It was something that could be used and, in return, he could give Azazel something he wanted.

There were many things he wanted to ask, like what was in his pack for one. It had been heavy, he knew that, much too heavy to just hold things like clothes and food. Matthew knew it had weapons on it, just like he knew that Azazel was armed. It was something he wanted to mention, to drag out in the light of day where it could be explained and wouldn't be so sinister.

Still, he could tell that he wasn't fully trusted by him. He revealed very little about himself except his name and that of his son's; Kurt. It was obvious that the man was still suspicious of him and Matthew wondered what kind of a life he must have led to be that way. Then again, it couldn't be easy going through life being that different.

"Were you born this way?" asked Matthew one day.

Azazel, who had begun to feel somewhat more comfortable, a fact that Matthew could tell because he didn't constantly draw his knives each time Matthew came down.

"Da," he said, "Him and I."

He flickered his tail towards his son, whom Matthew had found a box and made into a makeshift cradle for.

"I see," Matthew said.

"You do not," replied Azazel, "There are others like me, others that are…mutated is word I think. Different though. People who can read minds, manipulate elements."

"Was his mother one such as that?" asked Matthew, tilting his head towards Kurt.

Azazel's expression became hard and Matthew wondered if he'd asked the wrong question.

"She was," he said, "His skin and eyes like hers. But…"

His tone became like a sneer.

"...never mind," he said, "When it was over I could not leave him with her though. She would have dropped him in well or something."

Shaking his head Azazel picked Kurt up, though the baby was fast asleep.

"But there are people like us all around the world, different," he said, "Born that way."

His eyes narrowed.

"Persecuted for being that way."

Matthew chose his words carefully. He could tell that he was on thin ice.

"People often tend to fear what they don't understand," he said.

"Except you," said Azazel, "Why is that?"

In the situation Matthew felt that his best course was honesty.

"I had time to get over my fear before you awoke," he said.

"And I do not frighten now?"

He hesitated.

"I won't lie; you do frighten me, but not because of what you look like," he said, "It's the knives if I am to be perfectly honest."

Azazel threw his head back and laughed.

"You would think in monastery of all places they would have called for mob with torches and pitchforks."

"I find the old drawings of demons to be highly overrated," Matthew said dryly, "How does anyone know they look like that? Of course they were just doing a take-off of old pagan gods and goddesses, which could of course have been demons, but I think it's more likely that people don't need likenesses to be drawn to idols."

He sighed.

"And I find hiding behind the excuse of religion to commit acts of terror to be abominable," he said, "There are still countries that burn witches, a detestable practice."

Looking up he saw that Azazel's head had cocked in interest.

"Preacher in my village had idea that I was demon spawn," he said.

"And that is the kind of twisting that I mean," Matthew said sharply, "It demeans our religion when people use it as an excuse to persecute others. We were told to live in peace."

"I have never lived in peace."

"I know," Matthew said.

Giving him a sharp look Azazel's tone changed.

"I have killed people."

"I know that too," said Matthew.

"Do you now?"

"The knives gave it away."

Azazel laughed again. Kurt woke in his arms and Azazel shifted him, trying to get him back to sleep. Once he had quieted Azazel turned his attention back towards Matthew.

"And you tolerate presence because…?"

"Because you claimed sanctuary," said Matthew simply.

Raising an eyebrow Azazel put Kurt back to bed. The storm let up two days later. Thick snow blanketed the area, but it was clear other than that. Azazel carefully bundled up his son and Matthew began preparing food for them to take with them. It was then that he decided to voice his idea, for better or for worse.

He knew that there would be no introducing this idea to most of his brethren. He'd have the best success with his brothers who worked at the observatory higher in the mountains. Matthew could think of only two or three that he could trust in the monastery though, but he knew that he would have to at least try.

"We will leave soon," Azazel said.

"And go where?" asked Matthew, "If you don't mind me asking."

Azazel looked him over before shrugging and returning to the cot.

"Does not matter," he said.

His voice became bitter.

"I take syn with me for three months," he said, "Different place each week. Not fair to such young child."

"You've been travelling quite a bit then," Matthew ventured.

Laughter left Azazel, but that same bitterness lingered in it.

"Why else would I be in God-forsaken mountains with a child in middle of winter?" he demanded, "You think I am fool? I was running!"

His voice raised and Matthew made a motion for him to keep his voice down. Azazel complied, shooting a sullen look at him.

"I see," he said, "I can't imagine the life that you lead would be particularly safe."

He hesitated, wondering how his next words would be received.

"Several miles away," he said slowly, "There's a gamekeeper's house that's unoccupied now. There are a few cabins in a radius around it for times of need, to shelter travelers. All stocked with enough supplies for five days, the average time for a storm."

Azazel looked at him suspiciously.

"You could stay there, with your son, if you'd like," he said.

"In return for what?" he asked shrewdly.

"Your…unique abilities would allow you to rescue travelers with greater ease then we could ever hope to," Matthew replied, trying to explain without sounding like he was taking advantage of the small family, "In return you would receive the house and board."

Azazel continued to look at him with suspicion. Just then the Kurt cried out and Azazel disappeared in a puff of black smoke. When he reappeared he was next to the boy and picked him up, cradling him. Matthew watched for a handful of seconds before he felt that it was safe to speak again.

"Whether you like it or not you almost died out there that night," he said, "I'm not sure how you feel about that, but I know you want to protect your son."

He received a sharp glare in reply, but he could see that Azazel was hesitating somewhat. The child cried out again and Azazel held him closer.

"Da, I will," he said, "But understand; only temporary. Just until he is strong, ready to face world."

"Temporary," Matthew said, "Of course."


	2. Chapter 2

_February 20, 1967_

Azazel hovered over his small son, his hands stuck deep in his pockets. Matthew was standing next to him, looking worried. It did nothing to quell Azazel's nerves.

"And when did this start?" he asked.

"Last night," Azazel replied, "He was sluggish, which is unusual in him. He is usually all about place."

Matthew nodded and took his temperature. Normally Azazel would not have teleported to the monastery and gotten him. If he or his son had been injured then Azazel would have been able to take care of it. He'd been on the battlefield and had seen grievous injury. As such he knew how to splint bones, apply tourniquets, and even do emergency blood transfusions. The last one had been courtesy of the Brotherhood, but the rest came from Shaw and his time as a soldier.

For a year now Matthew had been one of their only links to the outside world. Matthew had brought a few other monks to see him, some looking more nervous than others. It wasn't as though he could keep them a complete secret. Azazel had even seen the Abbot, who'd been a composed man. Despite his composure Azazel could see that he thought the situation was more than just a little strange.

It wasn't as though his opinion mattered further than letting them stay there though. Azazel did his job well, and in return he was finding safety for Kurt. That was the most important thing. He'd given up his original job in exchange for the chance to be a father, making it his new job. Azazel always did love to do well at his occupation.

"Anything else?" asked Matthew.

"Some coughing this morning," frowned Azazel, "Nose is running, but nose is almost always running."

Nodding again Matthew took away the thermometer and read the temperature. Matthew had told him he'd been in training to be a teacher at one point and had had to learn how to deal with some diseases along the way. He was the closest thing Azazel had to a doctor and hence the only person he could consult when he realized his son was sick.

"I think that Kurt has the flu," Matthew said, "It's not entirely unusual in children his age from what I've read."

Azazel took in Matthew's composure.

"But you are still worried," he noted.

"Unfortunately I am," Matthew sighed, putting the thermometer into a bag he'd brought with him, "Azazel, there's no good way to say this."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I'm trying to tell you that this could get worse very, very quickly indeed because of his age," Matthew said, looking away, "My sister's baby had the flu and the child's health went downhill very fast. From what I understand it was a close thing."

Something like fear flooded him at Matthew's words. He looked down at Kurt, his son's small hands pushing in the air to show his discomfort. Azazel picked him up and held him close, as if that would somehow warn away his sickness. His son's fingers splayed out before Kurt sank back into lethargy.

He'd managed to protect his son from many things since he'd been born. Together they'd run from countless cities and hidden in dark rooms. He even took up a job that he disliked for its servile tendencies, all to keep him safe. Now he was running the risk of losing him to something like the flu? He wasn't going to allow it.

"What did they end up doing?"

Matthew hesitated.

"It's not something that we can do."

"What did they end up doing?" demanded Azazel.

Looking defeated Matthew threw his hands into the air.

"They took the child to the hospital," he said.

Azazel's eyes grew big before narrowing.

"That is not option for us," he said.

"And I understand that, which is why I said-"

"You have no idea what they would do to him at hospital," Azazel said, his voice trembling with rage, "When he was born-!"

He stopped talking, his rage making him clench his jaw. Azazel could still remember the day Kurt was born, and not all of it was positive. Mystique had gone into the room as Raven Wagner, a falsehood for two reasons. First of all Mystique hadn't gone by Raven for years and second because they hadn't married. They had planned on it, but things had gotten too complicated and happened too fast.

They wouldn't have let him in if he wasn't her husband though, and even then they were reluctant. So they'd lied. He'd slathered his skin with peach make-up and hidden his tail so he could be there. He wasn't going to miss the birth of his son for the same reason that made it difficult to have one in the first place.

He'd covered up all his red skin in the end. It wasn't perfect, but it worked. Every time he'd touched Mystique she'd left a small streak of the make-up on her skin but it wasn't enough for anyone to notice. They'd managed for several hours together but things as the pain increased he saw flecks of yellow in her eyes.

Then, in the final minutes, she lost control completely. Most people didn't notice at first, they were too intent on the incoming baby. Others thought it had been a trick of the light. However, there was no such thing as a trick of the light for Kurt, no protecting illusions. When Kurt arrived the doctor had nearly dropped him. One of the nurses had screamed.

To his shock and horror Azazel saw that one of the doctors had gone for a scalpel. From the look on his face he could tell that it hadn't been for any medical purpose. Furious Azazel had stepped in and broken the hand that held the scalpel. He'd drawn a knife that he'd hidden and threatened the other doctors to continue their normal procedures. Once they were done he quickly teleported away with his family.

"I see," Matthew said.

Sighing he pushed his hair away from his face.

"We…we have a doctor at the monastery," he said, running a hand through her hair, "But…he's not someone I think I can trust with the two of you."

The fact that this was a consideration made Azazel snort in frustration.

"He's a good man but…" Matthew sighed, "He's rather…well, you'd think a doctor would be more open minded is all."

"What do you suggest then?" Azazel snapped, "Let my syn die?"

"No!" snapped Matthew back, "I'm just trying to think for a moment."

Matthew sat down, holding his head in his hands and closing his eyes. Kurt had fallen asleep in Azazel's arms, though he was loathe to put him back into his crib. If what Matthew was saying was true then he might not get more opportunities to hold his son. The thought made him angry, want to destroy something, but there was nothing in the remote mountains he could take out his anger on.

"I'll find out the proper antibiotics, say that there's a family down in the village with a prejudice against doctors and a sick baby," he sighed, "It's all I can think of, and I think that God will forgive the lie."

Azazel gave him a sharp look.

"Will it work?" he asked.

"Maybe."

"Maybe?" Azazel demanded, "Maybe is not good enough!"

"It's all I have," snapped Matthew, "I'm sorry, but it's not like I could steal the appropriate antibiotics."

"Because you don't want to?" hissed Azazel.

"Because I don't know what they'd be!" Matthew shouted.

Kurt began crying, much softer than the sharp insistent cry that Azazel was used to. It broke his heart because it confirmed that something was indeed wrong. Immediately he went over to him and stroked his hair. He looked over at Matthew, at the worry lines that were crinkling his face. Azazel hesitated before speaking again.

"I am sorry," he said.

Matthew sighed.

"I can see that…this…this is a trying time for you," he said, "You must understand; I have no wish to see anything happen to the boy."

"I know this," Azazel said.

Matthew got up and headed towards the door. A few hours later he returned with a hastily scribbled on piece of paper and a bottle of medication. Azazel hadn't left Kurt since, moving the baby's box crib so that it rested next to him on the couch. The symptoms he had didn't get any worse, and Azazel fervently hoped that they improved.

"He says that the child should be placed in a room where the shower or bath tub is running. Something about the hot water," he said, reading from the piece of paper, "But keep him hydrated. And I got these fever reducers. Beyond that it just seems like he'll need around the clock care."

Azazel nodded and took the fever reducers and paper. He could see that Matthew wanted to stay and help, but he ended up leaving without a word. Azazel was glad on. If he'd tried Azazel would have told him to leave. Matthew had proven himself a useful ally and he couldn't afford to get too angry at him and say something he would regret. It was also nice to have someone around who could tell when you wanted to be left alone.

He went into the bathroom and turned on the hot water in the rickety old shower. It poured out but Azazel knew it would take a while for it to heat up. Many had been the night when he'd taken a freezing shower and considered himself lucky to get it. He left the room and got the medication out. Gently he opened his son's mouth and put the dosage in.

Kurt didn't like it. He cried out in protest, his tail thrashing around.

"Nasty, da," Azazel smiled weakly, "But have to eat up malchick moy. Come now, swallow."

He spooned some water in his mouth, forcing him to swallow it down. With relief he watched as Kurt swallowed. His gold eyes were slightly distrustful though and Azazel sighed.

"Ah, do not worry," he said, "No more for few hours."

With a slight frown Kurt shifted in his arms. Surprised at how calm he was being Azazel checked in on the bathroom. The room was filling up with steam. Azazel returned and brought Kurt in, checking the time. He didn't want Kurt to be in there for too long. There was such a thing as too much of a good thing.

"You and I," he said, "going to get through this. Because you and I are survivors syn moy, survivors."

He leaned back as he sat on the floor, his son in his arms.

"I know you do not understand, will not remember," Azazel said, "Too young."

Swallowing hard he continued;

"But you and I are all we have malchick moy. No grandparents for you, no cousins or uncles. No mother even. No big family to welcome with parade. Can not even get a doctor, this family. Can not even go outside in city."

In his arms Kurt silently shifted. Remembering what he'd been told about keeping him hydrated Azazel got some water from the tap. With great care he put it into his son's mouth drop by drop. It was the same care that he employed when cleaning his weapons, only this was infinitely more precious.

"So this is it," he said, "You are looking at it all. And so am I. I hope you somehow know this malchick, because this is where it begins and ends. Good for you to know so not disappointed later."

He swallowed thickly.

"But, do not dismiss this because it is two of us," he said, "Just means we must fight harder my syn. Some say we have less to try for. But I say it is more because one person can be taken so easily, and when that person is all you have…well…then they are more than if you had five people."

Kurt pushed at the air and his eyes began to close.

"So try," Azazel begged, "Try for me."

Azazel waited half an hour before taking him out. He fell asleep on the couch that night, Kurt beside him. At first he'd been terrified to go to sleep, thinking that he'd miss when it was time to give Kurt his medication. Instead he managed to take a few quick naps before the time in between medication ran out.

Slowly but surely Kurt recovered. Three days after he'd first worried and fretted that he might lose his son Kurt was back to crying enthusiastically and kicking. Azazel's worries that he would lose him had been buried. They hadn't fully gone away, they probably never would, but they were no longer in the forefront of his mind.

It was actually on the day that he recovered that Azazel first discovered a new layer of amazement about his son. This new layer simply cemented his belief that his son was his whole world. It happened when he was putting him to bed. Kurt reached for his face, as he always did before he went to bed. When his hand touched his cheek Azazel heard;

"Va..vatti."

As soon as the German word for 'papa' came from his son's lips the world turned upside down. Azazel smiled.

"Da, that is what I am," he said.


	3. Chapter 3

_May 14, 1969_

"Kurt! Nyet!"

Kurt paused, staring with wide eyes at his father.

"You said I could!" he protested.

"Nyet! I said you could climb tree, not jump out of it," Azazel snapped back, "Ground is too far away, understand?"

"But I am good at it," frowned Kurt.

Azazel fought the urge to yell or, better yet, teleport into the tree and bring his son down before he hurt himself. He believed himself to be a patient man, one who could wait hours for a quarry before finding the right time to kill it. Raising Kurt required a completely different type of patience though, and one he was entirely unprepared for.

For one thing the boy had learned how to use his tail much faster than Azazel had when he was younger. He remembered struggling with it until he was eleven. Azazel would have liked to say that it had been his brilliant parenting that had allowed Kurt to pick up the skill so quickly. Instead he'd realized that the boy was just more adapted to it. Perhaps it was the fact that he was the child of two mutants, second generation.

However, it meant that he began climbing on things at a very young age. Azazel had found out that part of his mutation was a special grip on his textured skin, allowing him to cling to the walls. Many had been the time where Azazel had walked into the living room and had his son drop onto his back, laughing and causing his father to drop whatever he was holding.

His newest obsession was the most damning in Azazel's eyes.

"I do not care what you think," Azazel said, "Unsafe to jump from places more than five times your height!"

Kurt stuck out his lower lip.

"I'm never gonna be an acrobat if you keep saying that!" Kurt wailed.

"Oh, wants to be acrobat now," Azazel said, throwing his hands up in the air, "Yesterday it was knight."

"I'll be an acrobat knight," declared Kurt, "The first acrobat knight. I'll ride horses and jump from trees."

"You'll break your neck, that is what you will do," grumbled Azazel.

"Papa!"

"Nyet more arguments," Azazel said, "Kurt, down."

He realized his mistaken words the minute his son's face lit up.

"Nyet! Nyet! I did not mean-"

It was too late. Kurt launched himself out of the tree, his arms stretched wide and a toothy grin on his face. Azazel teleported into the air, grabbing him and teleporting back to the ground. When the smoke cleared he could see the pout on his son's face, his little arms crossed and his tail swatting the air.

"You never let me do anything," said Kurt, "I never have any fun."

"Why is your idea of fun to hurt yourself?" demanded Azazel, narrowing his eyes at his son, "You will break something and then I will have to splint. You saw me splint that skier's arm last week, da?"

Kurt's nose wrinkled and he shrank back. He had indeed seen his father at work. Azazel figured it would be good experience for him to learn some basic first aid. He would be helping him do this when he became older and tiny hands were necessary sometimes. Kurt was also squeamish around blood, something he knew that he had to get out of his system.

His idea was that the more he was exposed to it the more detached he'd become when he needed to do it later. So, whenever a traveler was injured, Azazel would bring them in and have him watch. Kurt didn't like it, but he was too obedient to do otherwise. Matthew didn't approve of a child so young watching that, but at least Matthew knew better than to give parenting tips to Azazel. He quite liked him for keeping his mouth shut and adopting the route of passive disproval.

Azazel knew that four was a young age to be assisting with medical procedures. It wasn't like he expected Kurt to be an adult the minute he could walk. He quite liked the fact that he wasn't, and hoped that he could keep some of his immaturity as he got older. The world wouldn't be fun if he didn't. He knew that his training wouldn't sink in for several years, but it was good to get an early start.

Admittedly he'd probably gone overboard when he let Kurt watch when he splinted the skier's arm. The man's bone had been sticking from his arm, coming right out of the elbow. Azazel hadn't had any morphine so he'd simply put wood between his teeth. He'd set the bone right and splinted it correctly, the skier looking like he wanted to die the entire time.

It had made a big impression on Kurt, mostly that he decided that he never wanted to go skiing in his life. That was just as well. Azazel didn't see the point or the sanity in strapping slats of wood to a person's feet, giving them poles, and pushing them down a slope. He was already worried enough about his son hurting himself.

"Are we understood?" asked Azazel.

"Yes papa," Kurt said meekly.

"We are saying dasvidania to jumping out of trees, da?"

Kurt's face scrunched up in concentration.

"Das…das-vi…das-vi-dan…ia?" he said, struggling with the words.

Sighing Azazel boosted him higher. Kurt had grown up hearing German spoken to him, both by Matthew and by most travelers that he was forced to bring to their house before the monastery. Even Azazel had spoken it, although not very well. It made sense to learn the language since Germany was their home for the foreseeable future.

At the same time he wished that his son would be able to understand just a little bit of his language. Kurt was the product of an American mother and a Russian father. That he couldn't speak either language seemed more than a little wrong to him. He'd work on it, just like he'd work on his son's penchant for trying to hurt himself.

He began to head for the house. Kurt tried to scramble over his shoulder but he pulled him back down.

"I wanna play."

"You lost playtime when tried to jump to death," snorted Azazel, "Now it is nap time."

"But I hate nap time!"

"Exactly."

Kurt moaned and glared up at his father. His glare turned into a slightly more calculating look as he tilted his head back.

"Can I have a story?"

"Nyet."

"I never get a story," Kurt said.

Azazel opened the door to the house, his tail shutting it and locking it behind him.

"Why would you want story from me?"

"Because I do."

"That is not good reason."

"Please?" asked Kurt, tugging on his jacket, "I will go right to sleep after, I promise."

Azazel sighed and continued the trip to Kurt's room. He put him on the bed and pulled a book out from the shelf. Kurt squealed in delight, rocking back and forth.

"One story," Azazel said, holding up a single finger as he sat down on the edge of the bed, "Then to bed."

"I promise," said Kurt solemnly.

Sighing again Azazel opened the book.

"What fairy tale you want?" he asked him.

"I don't want a fairy tale," Kurt said, "You tell story. New one."

Azazel threw the book over his shoulder.

"You make this harder and harder malchick moy."

"Please? You said you would tell story."

"You did not say there would be conditions," Azazel said, rolling his eyes.

"Please?"

Settling himself more comfortably Azazel thought before deciding on a story.

"Now this story is important," he said, "Because it is true. It happened to me when I was fifteen."

Kurt's eyes widened. He could tell that he had a captive audience.

"There was war going on," Azazel said, "I had been discovered by Russian captain when I was thirteen on streets. They thought I would be grand weapon. But gave me training until I was fourteen, understand?"

His son nodded.

"I will not lie, I did job well," he said, "But at fifteen I was put in special ops, like secret warriors, da?"

Again Kurt nodded. He wasn't sure if Kurt really understood, but he didn't want him to understand everything about this story.

"But there was bad man," he said, "Very bad man. He was on other side, called by his evil superiors Red Skull."

It was a dramatic sounding name and he could tell that Kurt was getting excited. It certainly did sound like a good name for a villain out of a storybook. Azazel smirked to himself. He would have to thank the madman for getting such a villainous nickname one day, if he had already been killed.

"He had this base we had to take down," he said, "Some Americans and Canadians had been on tail for long time, think some were English and French. Called themselves the Howling Commandos. Experts in tracking this man. But Russia is treacherous place without guide. The winters are bad, even worse than here."

"Really?"

"Really," said Azazel, "So they sent me. They were surprised to see me, to say the least."

He grimaced slightly at the memory of some of their reactions. He had been young then, so the way people saw him had hit him hard. Looking back he could almost see that it was understandable. He really did epitomize the 'Red Devil' that everyone seemed to think populated Russia at the time.

"Canadians were not surprised. I thought odd at time, but I learned why later. They were named Howlett and Creed," he said, "Americans who were best about it...Rogers and Barnes I think. It was long time ago. There were other names, but not important."

Kurt nodded fervently.

"So we travel for weeks before coming to base," said Azazel, "It was enormous malchick moy, bigger than anything I had seen."

"Bigger than the monastery?" asked Kurt.

"Bigger," Azazel confirmed, "So I teleport them inside big base and they set explosives. Make things explode. Understand, da?"

"Yes."

"Then," Azazel said, "all of a sudden Red Skull's men were everywhere!"

He snapped his fingers for emphasis.

"I will tell you nyet lie," said Azazel, "I had fear for minute. Howlett was shot in head in seconds!"

Kurt shrunk into his blankets, his head barely peeping out from under the covers.

"But then, he heals and gets back up!" Azazel said, "Claws come from hands and begins to fight. Such a wonder. And Creed, he had claws too from fingernails! Rogers was very strong, fighting next to whole supply crate, very big, at enemies!"

He lost himself in the memory for a minute, smiling to himself.

"I saw whole thing," he said, "I was in rafters, fighting upper levels. Not easy."

Kurt cocked his head, though he was still buried in his blankets.

"He healed?" asked Kurt, "Claws? Super strength?"

"Da," confirmed Azazel, "For first time I realized others out there like me, special people who were different. Howlett was one. I could see Creed was too. Rogers…very strong certainly, very fast. Maybe like us. I heard something about experiment though, so I am not sure. But that was when I knew, and it made me fight all the harder. I was not alone in this world, not some strange creation."

His son had pushed the blankets away.

"Others?" he asked.

"Many," Azazel said, "I did not know this then, but few years later I would meet man named Shaw. He had met many, many more people like us. We are called mutants Kurt, mutants given special gifts that we use. But that was day I saw it first."

His son's eyes lit up.

"What happened next papa?"

"The charges were starting to go off," Azazel said, "One nearly blew Howlett and Barnes to pieces. So I teleport next to them and away. I was not as quick as could have been though."

He tapped the scar that cut over his eye and made a motion with his hand. Kurt's eyes got even bigger so that they were like dinner plates. Azazel had to admit that he was both surprised and flattered at the level of interest his son was showing in the tale. He should tell Kurt war stories more often if this was the reaction he could expect.

"And?" Kurt asked.

"Simple," he said, "I grab everyone else and teleport away. We watch base explode on snow covered hillside. The Howling Commandos shook hands and left. I heard later they got Red Skull in big explosion. War ended soon after."

"Wow," said Kurt.

"Wow indeed."

Azazel got up.

"Now, I have fulfilled my part of promise, now you go take nap."

Kurt groaned and pulled the covers over his head. Azazel smirked before teleporting out of the room. 

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **Although it didn't show it in the Captain America movie Wolverine did fight beside the Howling Commandos. Since 'Origins' said he was with Sabretooth during World War II I put him in there as well. And for the idea that Azazel was there makes sense if he was in the military during that time. I couldn't imagine him **not** being used if they had him._


	4. Chapter 4

_October 10, 1975_

Azazel stood in the doorway, his tail swishing languidly behind him. He usually didn't go so deep into the monastery. It generally wasn't considered safe. However, with the Abbot's permission a room and hallway had been set up. From what he heard it was supposed to be for storage, but the only custodian was Matthew. He was the only one with a key, and he and the Abbot were the only ones who knew what happened inside it.

"Through rain, through snow," Kurt said, standing by his desk and his tail twitching in concentration, "Through tempest go! 'Mongst streaming caves, o'er misty waves, on, on! Still on! Peace, rest have flown!"

There was a pause. Azazel could tell that his son was trying to get his bearings. At the front of the makeshift classroom stood Matthew, his book open as he looked down at the full copy of the poem. Azazel had heard Kurt mutter it around the house as he started did his chores, his brows furrowed as he attempted to memorize the poem's words.

Education was important, or so he'd been told. However, since Kurt didn't have to learn the lessons that Azazel had when he was younger he figured that his son might as well learn some other lessons. They might not be as practical as the ones Azazel had learned, but at least they were gentler.

"Sooner…through sadness," he said, hitting his stride again though still struggling with some of the words, "I'd wish to be…to be slain…than all the gladness of life to sustain all the fond…year…yearning that heart feels for heart…only…only seems burning…to make them both smart."

He raised his eyebrow. He'd never heard the entirety of the poem before. Now that he had he had to admit that the subject matter was strange for a ten-year-old. Kurt had told Azazel that it had been written by Goethe, a famous German poet. Azazel supposed that all poets lamented about love, and yet he found it odd that his son should recite it.

His tail stopped swishing and he wondered if Kurt had picked that poem out to recite. The assignment had been, as he'd heard, to recite a poem from memory that had been taken from one of the school books Matthew had scrounged up. If he had picked it out then Azazel thought it was an interesting choice for a ten-year-old to make. It was certainly rather mature.

Still, his son was an intelligent child. He'd always been so eager to embrace life, even if embracing it included jumping out of a tree. At least he'd gotten out of that stage. Kurt read books that Azazel hadn't been interested in until he was in his late teens, though that could just be because of how little time he'd had to read. Many had been the peaceful night where they'd sat in the living room and read, sometimes the same book.

Noticing the long pause Matthew looked up from the book.

"Kurt?" asked Matthew.

"I've got it," Kurt said.

His son took a deep breath.

"How shall I fly? Forestwards hie?" continued Kurt, "Vain…were all strife! Bright crown of life, turbulent bliss, love, thou art this!"

Kurt tilted his head up triumphantly.

"Well done Kurt," Matthew said, "Well done indeed."

He closed his book and looked up at Azazel.

"I'm sure your father thinks so too."

Kurt whipped around, his eyes bright.

"Papa!" he cried.

A second later Kurt had teleported so that he was inches in front of Azazel. Azazel leaned down and ruffled his son's hair. Kurt grabbed his hand and playfully pushed it away. His sleeves wavered slightly. They were too big, mostly since his shirt had been an old one of Azazel's that had been made over. Kurt was growing like a weed and it was becoming too hard to give him the appropriate clothes at all times.

Not to mention that they only had old clothes from the monastery. Sometimes Matthew would get them ones that were better suited to sizes but most of the time they made do with hand-me downs. Azazel had become quite adroit with a needle since he'd had a son. Yet sometimes it made him sad see Kurt in a shirt where most of it had been cut away to make it sizeable.

Kurt had never seemed bothered by it in the past though, and he certainly wasn't at the moment. His mind was still on the poem.

"You heard me say _Restless Love_?" he asked eagerly.

"What?"

"The poem," Kurt said, "You heard me say it? All of it?"

"Da, I did," Azazel said, "Very good Kurt, very good. Did you pick?"

"I did," Kurt said proudly, "Longer than assignment, but I could do it. I told Matthew I could, didn't I?

"You did," Matthew said, walking up behind him, "I only wanted him to do a few lines, but he decided to go further. He's doing very well this one. I would have liked to have a whole classroom full of him, if I had become a teacher. But I doubt I would have been that lucky."

He smiled.

"At least this way I do have a whole classroom full of him," said Matthew.

"You do," Azazel said.

Between the two of them Kurt beamed.

"I should start him on the next level in his studies," Matthew said, "It will be interesting to hear this one reciting Shakespeare."

"As long as keep away from _Titus Andronicus_ there should be no problem," Azazel said dryly, "Does not need that."

"You wound me," said Matthew, "I wouldn't subject him to that."

"Why?" asked Kurt, "What is wrong with Titus Androniki? Did he do something bad? Anyone give him a time-out?"

There was a long pause in which both men struggled to hold in their laughter.

"It is just a play," Matthew explained, still trying not to laugh, "And yes, he did do something bad. He didn't exactly get a time-out though."

"Oh," Kurt said.

"Well, look at every Shakespeare play except that," Azazel said, taking Kurt by the hand, "Come Kurt, think you can teleport outside of monastery?"

Kurt nodded smugly and let go of his father's hand. Seconds later they stood some distance away from the monastery, out of the eyesight of anyone who could look through the windows. It was beginning to get cold that night but Kurt tilted his chin up proudly and took Azazel's hand.

With a nod to him they began to walk towards their home. Although he could have teleported there but the distance was great. At the same time Kurt had been trying to teleport himself everywhere since his powers had manifested five months earlier. Azazel had been immensely proud of his son's manifestation. Although it would have been easier if he'd inherited his mother's mutation he was secretly pleased that Kurt had inherited his mutation from him instead. It meant there was more of him in Kurt.

Having a young teleporter caused several problems, some that he was prepared for. Unlike with Azazel someone was there to tell Kurt that he could only teleport to a place that he could see. This kept him from getting trapped in an uncomfortable position, branches stabbing him upon impact or ending up in a building where he wouldn't be welcome.

Others problem he wasn't prepared for. Kurt had had a cold once. It had been a minor thing, although he'd had to stay in bed all day. He'd slept very soundly. However, while he slept he sneezed. Each time he sneezed he ended up accidentally teleporting himself to another location. Azazel had to watch him constantly so he didn't end up outside.

Sometimes he just teleported in his sleep. At midnight Azazel had gone down to get some water. He'd found his son asleep on top of the oven. Azazel had brought him back to his room, only to find him crying in confusion in the living room the next night. Two nights afterwards he was on the porch. After that he'd amped up the lessons and struggled to teach him more control.

As time went by he stopped teleporting himself to random locations. He was relieved about that.

"Papa?" Kurt asked.

"Da?"

"The poem I read," said Kurt, "Have you heard it before?"

Azazel shook his head.

"Nyet. I was never very educated growing up," he said, "And did not grow up here. Grew up in Russia. If we had this Goethe there then I never knew him."

"Oh," Kurt said.

His son seemed a little disappointed in this revelation. Frowning Azazel said;

"What is matter?"

"I…well…" Kurt started, "You'll say it's silly."

"I will not," Azazel said, indignant, "You know that I am not going to dismiss question just because it is silly."

He smirked.

"Otherwise you would never ask me anything," he said.

"Papa," Kurt said, his face turning up into a pout.

"Sorry, sorry," said Azazel, raising his hands in mock surrender and laughing, "Now Kurt, you know I am father, da?"

"Yes…"

"So you know that means that I know everything," asked Azazel, "So tell me what it is. Come now."

Kurt sighed.

"I was wondering if you understood it."

Azazel raised his eyebrow.

"Beg pardon?"

"I said you'd think it was silly," Kurt said defensively.

"Nyet, nyet," protested Azazel, "I just do not understand it."

"I just…I picked the poem because it was longer than it was supposed to be," Kurt said, "I wanted to show that I could do it. I knew it was talking about love, but I don't know exactly what it meant."

Deep inside Azazel something stuttered in terror. Azazel looked down while his son continued to talk on.

"I mean, bright crown of life, turbulent bliss, love, thou art this," Kurt recited, "What does that mean papa?"

Azazel put a hand over his mouth and stopped walking. Kurt tugged on his hand, frowning and looking worried.

"Papa?"

"Kurt…" Azazel sighed, "This is not…you are very young."

"I just want to know what it meant," Kurt said.

Inwardly he gave a sigh of frustration. He should have known that he would have to do this, or something similar to this, one day.

"Love is…it means that love is what people need," he said, "We search for it, like prince in fairy tale. That worth everything. That is 'bright crown of life'. But…"

He swallowed.

"…but love has two sides," continued Azazel, "Love can be very painful…if not returned. Even when returned it is sometimes not enough. People can be torn apart by things, even if it is not their fault. It can hurt Kurt. It can hurt very much. And that is 'turbulent bliss'. Together that is love. That is what it means."

Eyes wide Kurt looked up at him. His heart broke with what he had to say next, but the earlier Kurt got used to it the better.

"Syn, we do not look others. I know you know this. People at monastery are not like rest of world. It is safe if we stay here, but it excludes us in way," he said, "Things like love…they are difficult for most people. For us, harder. I do not want to give illusions that we can live and love like others. We cannot Kurt."

With each word he knew that he was damaging his son's view of the world, almost like he was betraying his son's trust in him. Azazel knew that he would have to do this more as his son grew up. The times where he could pretend that everything was perfect were coming to an end. Though Kurt was still a child in many ways he couldn't afford to keep his innocence forever.

"That's not fair," his son whispered.

His eyes closed briefly and he saw golden eyes set in dark blue and framed by red.

_"It is either one or other! We both know it cannot be both. No more games! Which one?"_

Azazel snapped back to the present and looked away.

"No, it is not," Azazel said, his voice choked, "but that is how it is. I am sorry Kurt, I am sorry for this."

Next to him Kurt looked down at the ground.

"Let us go home malchick moy," he said softly, "Come. We are going to start different lessons today."

For a moment Kurt didn't move. Then he took a step forward. Azazel began to walk again, his footsteps ponderous. At least he was moving forwards, just like he'd always tried to do. Next to him he saw that Kurt was moving the same way. He'd have to learn to walk this way, always moving forward, one step at a time.


	5. Chapter 5

_ August 24, 1979_

Kurt panted and pushed away the sweaty hair that had fallen into his eyes. The sun shown hot and he thought he had a slight sunburn on the back of his neck.

"Can we have a five minute break?" he asked hopefully, "Please papa?"

Azazel cut the air with his sword a few feet away from him. Kurt's own sword felt heavy in his hand. It was just a practice sword, as was Azazel's. Although he'd been training since he was ten his father would only let him use a real sword a few times a week.

He'd also been learning how to use his tail as a weapon. Kurt had always been aware that it was sharp, he'd used it to open packages and help break the soil in the garden before, but he'd never thought about using it in a combative sense. It was harder and he was grateful that he wasn't practicing with it that day.

Today was a sword day although they alternated between tail and sword lessons every day, even weekends. In between that and his school time with Brother Matthew it could get exhausting. It was even more so when the heat was pushing down on him. In his exhaustion he marveled that his father used his sword with such ease.

"What was that?" asked Azazel, "English!"

With a sigh Kurt readjusted his grip. His father had been trying to teach him English for a while and one of his games was making him repeat phrases in English. Otherwise he would pretend like he couldn't hear him. They had done the same with Russian, which he was reasonably proficient in. The so-called game could be frustrating, especially when there was something he really wanted to communicate.

"Can…ve…haf…five minute break?" he struggled, "Bi-please papa?"

Azazel shook his head.

"One more exercise Kurt," he said, "Now, begin."

Kurt sighed and changed his grip. Unlike his father he had to continuously change his grip. His three fingers were not made to grip a sword normally and the sword was thrown off balance. Azazel had redesigned the grip on the practice sword, but it wasn't enough to keep his fingers from throwing him off.

His father didn't go any easier on him because of it though. Azazel maintained that no one trying to fight him in real life would take his fingers into account. That meant that he couldn't either. Kurt had also been made to understand that it would be more of a triumph when he did win in a match against his father if he'd been able to overcome his difficulty with his fingers. He still didn't understand about being attacked in real life though.

Tilting his head back he balanced his sword in front of him. Then he teleported behind his father and made a low slash with his sword. His father teleported away and ended up to his left. His sword came down but Kurt blocked it. He managed to push it away before making another swipe at his father.

Azazel moved out of the way and made another move. Kurt blocked again and made another blow, but Azazel blocked it. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his father's sword coming for him again and he caught it with his tail. His father's moves were powerful enough to untangle it though.

The sword heavy in his hand Kurt made another lunge at him. Almost casually Azazel turned the sword aside and, with another blow, knocked the sword out of his hand completely. With one more blow he pushed Kurt back so that he was on the ground.

"And you are dead," Azazel said, "You are getting sloppy so put sword away. But do it carefully malchick moy. Do not want anything breaking."

Kurt nodded and gently put his sword in his case. Then he collapsed on the ground next to the chest, his eyes closed.

"I am dead," he said.

Next to him he felt his father drop to the ground.

"It is break."

"I am still dead," Kurt replied.

"Do not be so dramatic," he said, "You are not dead. If dead you would not talk."

"But what if I was a zombie?" asked Kurt, one eye opening, "Or a vampire? What then papa, what then?"

"You read too many horror books," Azazel snorted, "No such thing."

"But people think that there is no such thing people with tails either," argued Kurt, "But here we are."

"Here we are," agreed Azazel, "But we are mutants. Those are vampires. No vampires, no zombies, no boogeymen."

"But what if there was a mutant **like** a vampire, boogyman, or zombie?"

Kurt wasn't trying to be difficult. He was genuinely interested. He'd never seen another mutant besides his father, never gone outside the confines of the mountains even when he'd started teleporting and assisting his father in his work. His father knew he was genuinely curious about it. Kurt also knew that that knowledge was the only reason that Azazel tolerated all of the ceaseless questions.

"Well, that is different," Azazel considered, "I do not know; I have not come across mutant who sucked blood, but maybe some do. Maybe some look like boogeymen. But then they would be mutants Kurt, not vampires or boogeymen."

"What about zombies?"

"Zombies are reanimated corpses," said Azazel dryly, "I do not think mutants are reanimated."

"You said people came back to life when you were in army," Kurt pointed out.

"They **healed **Kurt."

"But what if they can reanimate?"

"But what if moon is made of cheese? But what if sky falls down?" Azazel said, "You worry far too much malchick moy. You were not made to worry. You were made to run around in circles laughing, and you often do, so keep running around in circles."

Kurt made a face and rolled on his side. His arms ached so this was a difficult task. Feeling the ache he summoned up the courage to ask another question.

"Papa," he said, "why are you training me to fight with swords?"

"Again with the questions," Azazel said, "Perhaps this break was bad idea. Time to go back to work."

He began to get up but Kurt grabbed his pant leg.

"No papa," Kurt argued, "I have been training for four years now. This is something I would like an answer to. Please papa."

Heaving a sigh Azazel flopped back down on the ground.

"I do this because…I want you to know how to defend yourself," he admitted.

"Defend myself?" asked Kurt, frowning and looking around, "What is there to defend myself from papa? Are there bears here you aren't telling me about?"

Azazel made a face.

"No…no bears…"

His voice trailed off.

"Kurt, some of these things that I will tell you," he said, "are not good things. But…I think that you are old enough to know this."

He sighed. Kurt sat up. His father wanted to talk to him about important grown-up things and he wasn't going to ruin it by appearing to be immature.

"You know that, since we are different, we must be careful," Azazel said, "When I save someone, I try to be careful so they do not see too much of face. I wear mask unless necessary not to. I have you do the same."

"You do," Kurt said, "And gloves and shoes."

"Do you remember why we do this?

"Yes," Kurt said, "It is so they are not scared because they are not used to us."

"That is **a **reason," said Azazel, "But not only reason."

He paused.

"I had a father once," Azazel said, "Your grandfather."

Surprise made Kurt's eyes grow large. Azazel had never talked about his grandfather. He'd never even talked about Kurt's mother before.

"My mother died giving birth to me," said Azazel, "My uncle went into panic when saw me. My grandmother, your great-grandmother, said my mother had made pact with Devil and gave birth to his spawn."

Kurt blinked at him.

"But…Brother Matthew says that we are not-"

"Brother Matthew is highly understanding man," Azazel said, "Where I was was not quite so understanding. And grandmother was very old woman. Perhaps crazy. Thought she was very holy and that meant always right so of course I was demon."

"That is not holy," Kurt said firmly.

"No, it isn't," agreed Azazel, "As I said, perhaps crazy."

He sighed.

"We lived fair enough for first eleven years of my life," he said, "Uncle tolerated me, grandmother lived far away, and father loved me. I was his son you see. He got in arguments with grandmother; she thought I should be gotten rid of."

Azazel's lips pursed together.

"Horrid woman," he said, "I was scared of her, ever since I was little. One day she came when father was away, gone to town. Uncle was taking care of me. But he…did not do what he told my father he would."

Next to him his father dug his hands into the ground. Kurt swallowed hard, knowing that something awful was going to be told to him.

"I was so scared. Grandmother said I needed to be killed," he said, "I ran around but I could not teleport yet. Uncle caught me and brought me out to water trough where I was held under. I was nearly drowned. Father came home in time and got them to go away. He told me it would be fine, that it was over."

His voice became thick.

"But it wasn't over. Grandmother felt that job had to be finished. Mob came for us two days later. I…"

Azazel took in a deep breath.

"I watched my father die," he said.

Kurt's eyes filled with tears for his grandfather. It didn't seem fair and it didn't seem right. Kurt knew that bad things could happen to people who had done nothing wrong. Yet he still believed in fairness, in a kind of equality. He looked away and wiped his face dry so his father wouldn't see that he was upset.

Somehow he did though. He felt his father's hand on his shoulder.

"It is okay Kurt," he said gently.

Kurt sniffed and finished wiping his eyes. Feeling angry at himself he looked down at the ground. He was fourteen now, and he'd thought that that was too old to cry. It turned out he was learning otherwise. The presence of his father's hand on his shoulder wasn't a gesture of admonishment though, just one of comfort.

When he finished Azazel said;

"Maybe I should stop."

"No," Kurt said, "No…I did not…I would need to know this one day. Please tell me more…I need to know this."

"Well, they finished with him then came for me," Azazel said, his voice hesitant, "I would have died too, but when they came for me I panicked and teleported for first time. Took me into big city."

He looked away.

"I lived on streets for long time," he continued, "And when I was same age as you I was plucked off streets by Russian captain because…well…"

His father looked uncomfortable.

"A man tried to kill me, I forget why," Azazel said, "I think he was drunk. But Kurt…when it happened I could not stop thinking of day my father died, of panic I felt. So…I killed him, and it was very easy to do. More than you would think."

Kurt looked up, his eyes wide. He'd known his father had been a soldier for a very long time, but he'd never known this. Azazel refused to meet his eyes as he continued.

"And some captain saw it as came out of car, thought I could be used against enemy, that I would intimidate," said Azazel, "They were right about that. I intimidated allies too. Not exactly normal looking."

Pushing himself up Kurt adopted his favorite crouching position. It allowed him to rock back and forth on his heels as he tried to absorb the information he was hearing.

"But, here is thing," Azazel said, "I killed in defense that time. There were other times I killed to reach objective, for other reasons that were not so clear. Sometimes I did what I did because I had no choice, others on orders."

He looked over at Kurt and sighed.

"There are things I am not proud of," he said, "But you, you are something that I am proud of. Very much."

Kurt felt his eyes sting with tears again.

"And I thought, so much happened because I did not know better," Azazel said, "So much because I did not have choice. But you are going to know better, you are going to have choice in what happens."

He waved his hand expansively around.

"I teach you swords so you have choice," said Azazel, "If you know how to defend self you won't have watch as things happen if threatened. You will make decisions, you will be one in control. That is gift I want to give to you."

Something welled up inside him. Kurt bit his lip with his fangs, drawing blood. After a minute he got up and picked up his practice sword.

"Papa," he said, "Come."

Azazel looked at him, surprised.

"I accept your gift papa," he said, "I am…I am…thank you."

His father's face softened as he got to his feet. He picked up his practice sword and leveled it.

"Begin," he said.


	6. Chapter 6

_January 29, 1984_

Amanda should, by all accounts, not be driving. It had been her mother's idea to have her learn how to, even though she wasn't technically allowed to when they were living in England. However, being a German citizen with a travelling circus she'd taken advantage of a quick visit to Germany to get her license at the age of seventeen.

This didn't mean that she should be driving though, license or no. Amanda had only driven for short periods of time and certainly not up the mountain in a snowstorm. She hadn't intended for it to be this way; she had thought that the snowstorm wouldn't be for another three days. That was what all the reports said and she figured she could make it to the observatory and back by that point.

Of course, it was just her luck that they would be wrong. The attendant at the rental place had been sure to tell her that the weather was unpredictable. He'd also digressed into some local legends about pagan spirits of the netherworld living in the area she was going into but she'd brushed them off. She'd been trying to get a car at the time despite her young age; not listen to idle talk and urban legends.

Sighing she tilted her head, causing a shift in her hair. Her thick braid coiled over her shoulder and hung by her waist. It was going to be tangled with the seatbelt when she tried to get out. Even with the heater going she could feel the cold seeping into the cheap rental. Sighing she snuggled deep into her coat. No matter. If she could just keep pushing forward than she could make it to the observatory before the storm got too bad. It wasn't as if she could turn back; she had come too far up the mountain for turning back to make sense. There was too much distance.

Her eyes flickered to her backpack. If she looked hard she could just make out the bump in the backpack that was the small black box her mother had given her. Her grip on the wheel tightened involuntarily and she bit her lip. It was one of the few things her mother had asked her to do before dying only weeks earlier.

Amanda's mother had been, since her father had died eleven years ago and her brother abandoned them a month later, Amanda's only real relative. They had travelled the world together with their performing circus, Amanda learning her craft as a dancer while her mother performed as a fortune teller. She was famous for her accuracy which, as she explained to Amanda, was all about being able to read a person's personality.

A few times, mostly out of curiosity, Amanda had tried it. Her own attempts hadn't been good, even when she followed her mother's pointers. Either she just didn't have a knack for it or her mother was holding something back. When she had grumpily pointed it out her mother had laughed at her frustration.

"It was not meant for you," her mother explained, "Just as I was never so graceful. Don't worry about it Amanda."

Tears welled in her eyes and Amanda bit down on her lip even harder. When her mother had been diagnosed with cancer her life had slowly lost its comfortable familiarity. Her mother left the circus overseers as Amanda's guardians and put her affairs in order. At the same time she began to take conventional treatments, though she stopped them once she realized that, in her case at least, they weren't doing any good.

Towards the end she had begun babbling about things that Amanda didn't understand. Sometimes her mother frightened her with the way she talked, and other times she simply confused her. Her last wishes were, for the most part practical. There were only two of them.

The first was that she simply wished to be buried in Munich, the city of her birth. It had been the city that she had met her husband, gotten married, joined the circus and, on a return visit, given birth to Amanda. A lot of her mother's life had happened in Munich and it made sense that she would want it to be her final resting place.

Her other request had concerned the small black box. Her mother had entreated her, several times in fact, to deliver it to someone at an observatory that rested high in the Alps. Her instructions had been hazy but Amanda had tried to remember them. They were all she had to go on.

"It must be given to a man who healed flesh, but now heals the fabric of our realm. Watch for the strange man there."

To say the least Amanda wondered if her mother's mind had gone, though she could be completely normal at times. It hadn't stopped her from worrying. All of the doctors she consulted said that there was no reason they could see for her lapses. None of her medications caused it and the cancer wasn't located in the brain. Such rantings had subsided in her final week, leaving her to die in peace.

The memorial service had taken place in England, the last place the Munich Circus had travelled to. Her fellow performers had been there, helping her plan it and giving her sympathy and support. While in attendance Amanda experienced her second earth-shattering shock that month; the appearance of her brother.

Stefan had slipped quietly in and said nothing, though Amanda had recognized him. He'd caught her after the service.

"I'm sorry about mother," he said, his voice soft.

Amanda had managed a nod, trying to swallow the resentment she felt for Stefan's abandonment. It had broken her mother's heart, she knew that much.

"How are you doing?" he asked.

"I'll get through it," Amanda replied.

He'd nodded and looked around.

"I am twenty-nine," he said, "I could be your guardian if you have nowhere else."

"Mother named the circus overseers as my guardians," she said, her voice somewhat sharp, "She didn't know where to find you."

Her mother also didn't trust him, even if he was her only and much-beloved son. Amanda didn't remember him too clearly, but she'd heard stories that he'd been a troublemaker that both her parents had indulged. Later it had been explained to her by a few employees that Stefan had gotten in trouble with the circus multiple times for shirking his job and pranks that were taken too far. Stefan sighed.

"Amanda," he said, "I don't want to cause trouble. Just…our mother just died."

Feeling somewhat deflated Amanda had nodded. He had been her child too, and they both needed this time of mourning. If he was interested in staying and trying to mend bridges then Amanda wouldn't stop him. It would be nice to have someone to talk freely about her mother to, to cry with. She should have known better. It was Stefan.

He stayed with her in their family caravan for two days before she caught him going through her mother's things.

"Stefan," she'd said, her voice flat, "What are you doing?"

Not looking the least bit guilty Stefan got up from the open trunk and wiped his hand on his pants.

"Listen…mother had some things in her possession that other people are interested in."

She'd blinked.

"Excuse me?" asked Amanda

"She had something that was a lot more important than she thought," explained Stefan, "There's this black box she had at one point, and I want to know if she still had it. You see, I have an interested buyer in Latveria-"

Amanda had pulled her hand back and slapped him. He'd stared at her, his eyes wide.

"Get out," she said.

"Amanda-"

"Get out!"

Sighing Stefan had left, pausing at the doorway.

"That box is more important than you could possibly imagine," he said, "It's dangerous-"

"Out!"

The box had, at the time, been residing among her own things. She was relieved that he hadn't thought to look there. The thought of disobeying her mother's request hadn't even crossed her mind, though she knew it would be difficult to fulfill. Failure wasn't an option though, and it was for that reason that she drove through the snow two days after burying her mother's body in Munich.

The wipers pushed away snow, clearing her vision minutely. The storm was getting worse. Amanda thanked the rental car attendant's foresight in putting chains on the wheels, otherwise she would have spilled over the rocky roads by that point. He might have talked about those weird occurances too mcuh, but he'd made sure that she was properly equipped. It was the only comfort she had. She was uncomfortable driving in the worsening conditions, but stopping in her car would be a foolish idea.

Ahead of her the road was darkening; an effect of the thick woods that shaded them. She squinted, inching her car ahead so that she didn't run into anything. Her discomfort mounted by the second and she began to realize that there was little hope of reaching the observatory that night, or perhaps that week. Amanda didn't know how long the storm was projected to last.

On the map she'd seen that there was a small town near the observatory. It was closer than the observatory and, if memory served her correctly, there was a youth hostel there. Her German was poor as a result of spending so much time away from her place of birth, but she had enough so long as there were no complicated conversations. She would stop there and resume her journey when the storm let up.

In this frame of mind the crack above her was a complete surprise. The snow was so thick that Amanda had to squint her eyes in order to see what had caused it. Still searching there was a rumbling sound and, looking up, she saw a large tree come rolling down the side of the mountain, crashing right into her car's path.

Amanda slammed on the brakes but the ice on the road was thicker than she'd thought. The car began to slide and Amanda struggled to regain control of it. As she watched the rapidly approaching tree she let go of the gas completely, hoping to slow herself down at least a little.

She closed her eyes and felt the rapid jolt of the collision, shattering the front window and sending glass everywhere. Her airbag stopped her from falling too far but she could see that the front of her car was totaled.

The car silde and the backside hit the tree and Amanda banged her head on the dashboard. She saw stars for a moment and her vision blurred. Blearily she saw that her car was positioned to precariously close to the edge of the road. Very carefully she unbuckled and grabbed her backpack. Amanda went for the door and felt that the handle was stuck.

Holding her breath she kicked open the door. The car jostled and Amanda jumped out. The car edged closer to the precipice but didn't fall over. She breathed out. She was out of the car. Now she had to figure out what to do next.

To start with she had absolutely no idea where she was. It was a scary thought but she was on the mountainside in the middle of a storm with her car busted. Amanda looked around her, wincing at her situation and trying to figure out a way out of it.

In the end she decided to get over the tree and keep following the road. She couldn't stay with her car after all. If she was lucky she'd be able to reach the town she'd seen on the map. Whether she'd manage to make it to the town at all was even more questionable but she was willing to give it a shot. Amanda couldn't afford to think in anything other than positive terms.

Amanda pulled her hood up and walked up to the tree. Once there she began moving through its myriad of branches. Her dancer's balance and grace were definitely helping and she felt satisfied with her medium. Some of the branches were covered in ice, making it hard to find certain footing to climb over the tree. Still, using both hands and slipping more than once she managed to make it over to the other side.

Shouldering her backpack securely she continued onwards. Snow was falling thickly now, making the ground more slippery. She kept moving onwards, trying not to let the cold affect her. She wasn't about to become another statistic. Amanda had a job to do and she was going to do it correctly.

Further up the road she came to another tree. Thankfully this one wasn't as big as the first one and she used the same method that she'd used on the first one on it. Unlike the first one though it was icier and Amanda hit her head going down it. She thought she felt a trickle of blood under her hood and tried to apply pressure. Seeing that it wasn't that serious she continued on.

Amanda was starting to get tired now. Her watch told her that she'd been on the road for an hour and she hadn't seen anything that looked remotely like someplace someone would live. It was hard to feel her feet and she was starting to get incredibly worried.

Exhausted she put her foot down on what looked like a snow covered road. There appeared to be more ice than she'd thought and she slipped on it. Amanda fell forwards. For a second she caught herself with her hand but there was too much ice to get a solid purchase. Slipping still further moved her body so she was sent tumbling off the road and into a snowy ditch instead of off the mountain.

Even so her journey wasn't a pleasant one. Brambles scratched at her face and tore at her arms. Her jacket ripped and the cold flooded in. Amanda felt her backpack's strap break, torn by a branch. It fell to the ground ahead of her even as she reached for it.

Her braid got caught in a branch, pulling her backwards sharply. Her descent had too much weight behind it to be stopped by that though and it simply tore away the hair tie. Her hair spilled out and she kept falling.

Finally she fell to the ground, her body landing awkwardly and painfully. A sharp pain in her foot rose and Amanda cried out. The wind began to howl and for a moment she stayed immobile, trying to get her breath back. Looking up she could see that she'd fallen a long way, but nothing she couldn't climb.

Still panting she noticed her backpack some ways away. It was almost, but not quite, within her reach. Clawing herself forwards with the arm closest to it she managed to pull it close to her, but then let her arm fall back in exhaustion.

Now that she had her backpack she had to get moving. Her body screamed in protest at the idea, but she couldn't stay where she was. Gritting her teeth she tried to get up again, but her leg wouldn't support her weight. Amanda fell to the ground again, hitting her head painfully.

She cried out again and tried to get some air into her lungs. The cold was seeping in fast though and she could feel despair as she gasped and panted. Everything ached and she didn't know if she could get up again. The knock to her head was painful and she began to wonder if she was concussed.

Alarmingly her vision was beginning to blur. She swallowed and tried to push herself up again but she couldn't quite manage it. Looking around her in the swirl of white, which was rapidly becoming black, she tried to focus on something but she couldn't quite manage it.

A noise that sounded like a soft explosion filled the air. She lolled her head and saw a shape at the far end of the clearing. It looked like it was human and from far off corner of her mind the thought came that she should call for help. It drifted away, almost insubstantially, and before she knew it it was gone. Amanda watched as the shape approached her, her world becoming increasingly black and soft.

It crouched next to her. She saw it wave a hand in front of her face and her eyes followed it vaguely. One hand grabbed her pack, slinging it over her shoulder by its good strap. Hands slipped behind her back and neck then, picking her up. A sharp stab of pain from her leg and head caused her to cry out and she felt the shape hesitate. Then Amanda felt the world shift in a cloud of black smoke before losing consciousness.


	7. Chapter 7

Amanda opened her eyes. She stared up at a wooden ceiling, the wind screaming outside. Turning her head she could only make out a flurry of whiteness. The slight motion caused her forehead to pound and Amanda brought her hand up to her forehead. Surprisingly enough she felt a bandage there. Frowning she explored it a little further, her fingers finding tender flesh. Amanda winced and withdrew her hand.

She looked around the simply furnished room, wondering where she was. The only pieces of furniture were a crudely bed, bookcase, fireplace, a few shelves, and nightstand. However, random objects were crammed onto shelves and books had been tossed into the bookcase. Papers were tossed around. Branches were placed in jars and dried flowers had been put on the window pane. Clothes had been dropped in piles, though the room didn't smell so she figured that they were clean.

The only thing that was treated with any reverence was a bible that had been placed on the nightstand near the bed. It had been positioned carefully, its pages obviously well thumbed. It was the only object on the nightstand, as though its owner didn't want anything disturbing the holy book.

It was an unusual place and Amanda felt a flicker of worry looking around. Its owners might be as unusual as the room. However, the bandage was a good sign that they didn't want to hurt her. At the same time she struggled to remember how she had come to be there. Most of her memories of her recent endeavors were fuzzy.

Amanda could remember her car crashing and trudging through the snow. All of that was clear and intact. After she'd been hit on the head events took a turn for the indistinct and vague. With a further effort she remembered falling in the snow and the blurry shape, but she didn't know who that had been.

"Foolish. Foolish! I leave you alone for chetyrah days, now look!"

"Vhat vas I supposed to do? Just leafe her zere?"

Amanda blinked her eyes and turned her head as she heard the scraps of conversation.

"Nyet, nyet. I am not saying that. Why twist words around?"

"I am not tvisting anyzing vatti. I just do not know vhat you are saying if it is not zat."

"I am saying storm will last for long time!"

Furrowing her brow Amanda struggled to sit up, her limbs obstinately resisting her. Her eyes drifted towards the door that the voices were filtering through. Whoever it was that had protected her had obviously tried to care for her injuries, and was now in the next room having an argument. It sounded like it was about her.

"Vhy should zat matter?"

"It means I cannot see two feet out there!"

"I had trouble vhen ve vere coming here…"

"Da, and you should have brought to monastery!"

"Vatti, she vas concussed. I did not zink zat she vould make it."

Puzzled at the turn the conversation was taking Amanda gently touched her bandage. She was concussed? That would explain how blurry things had become at the end, and it would certainly explain the blood. Still, she seemed better now. Was that normal for people who had been recently concussed? The thought made her frown. How long had she been out?

"But the storm was not so bad then."

"I zought it vould let up, make it safer. But it got worse after drei days."

Amanda's eyes widened and felt somewhat frantic. Some of the words were unfamiliar, but that she recognized. Three days? She'd been out for that long? Obviously she'd been taken care of, but the thought that she had been out for three days worried her. Had her concussion been that bad? Were all of her motor functions fine? She would have to test it to find out.

Swallowing hard she started looking around the room again. She saw her backpack placed neatly against the wall and her jacket on a hanger. In a panic she wondered if the box was inside. If she had somehow lost it while she was falling then it would have all been for nothing and she'd have to break her promise to her mother. She had to check if it was still there.

Amanda put a tentative foot outside of her bed. Cold air assaulted her, even though there was a fire going in the fireplace. Breathing in she wrapped the blanket around her shoulders before bringing her other leg around to join it. It knocked against something but she ignored it. Her legs felt strange and she had to feel about with her toes for a few seconds in order to get her bearings. Satisfied that they were both on the ground she tried to stand up.

"Ozzers haf stayed vith us for a vhile."

"Not this long!"

"Miene gott vatti, zis ist not-"

Her right leg collapsed under the weight and she fell to the floor, knocking the nightstand over. Gritting her teeth Amanda looked back to her leg. She had almost forgotten that it had been injured. Like her head it had been bandaged, but unlike her head she hadn't given it much of a thought before going forward in her motor activities.

Amanda took one look at its swollen size and realized that it was twisted, in the very least. Most likely it had undergone a very bad sprain. She realized, quite a bit too late, that it had been on a pillow before she'd moved it. Someone had propped it up and she should have known not to move it.

She cursed under her breath and pushed herself into a kneeling position, dragging the blanket with her. Amanda pulled herself towards the nightstand and righted it, placing the Bible gently on top. Guiltily she looked around to make sure that she hadn't knocked anything else over. Luckily she hadn't.

Just then the doorknob began to turn. Amanda blinked and began guiltily edging away from the nightstand. She hadn't gone very far before the door opened a crack. From her position she could barely make out a shape behind the door. Any facial features were too shrouded in shadow for her to make out.

"Um, I take it zat you are avake?" the man asked.

"Of course she is. Otherwise she wouldn't have made noise," the other voice snorted.

"Vatti…" the man at the door sighed.

"Fine, fine. You handle. I go upstairs."

There was something that sounded like a small explosion. Amanda jerked back, nearly hitting her head against the bed frame.

"Sorry about miene vatti," the man at the door said, "Um, you speak English yes? Vatti taught me und ve zought vith ze writing on ze backpack…"

"Yeah, I speak English," Amanda replied.

There was an awkward silence. Amanda cleared her throat.

"Thank you for saving me," she said.

"Oh no…it is uh, vhat vatti und I do," he said, "Oh, my manners!"

She heard him snap his fingers.

"I am Kurt Vagner," he said, "Miene vatti ist Azazel Vagner."

"I'm Amanda Sefton," she said.

"It is pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise," she replied.

She looked around the room, gesturing with one of her hands.

"Is this your room?" she asked.

"Ja. Ze um, ze guest room did not already haf fire in it vhen I brought you in," he said, "You vere qvite cold so I zought it vould be better for you und I did not vant to move you too much because of your head..."

"Don't worry about it. Thank you, you've been very kind," Amanda said.

"Nein, like I said, zis is our job," he said, his voice sounding nervous, "No need to zank us Miss Sefton."

"You saved my life," she said, "I think it's going to be okay for you to call me Amanda, don't you think?"

"Oh…ja, of course."

She smiled. Her mind went over what Kurt had said about it being his job to rescue people and, for a minute, she thought she realized what had happened.

"Are you some sort of mountain rescue?" asked Amanda.

"I suppose so," he laughed.

The laughter made her slightly uncomfortable, but she decided not to remark on it. She splayed her fingers on the ground and began to push herself up.

"You should not valk on zat just yet," he said hurriedly, "Not good."

"I'm just trying to get back to the bed," said Amanda.

"Uh, vell, it is very bad prain," he said, "Putting veight on it vould cause furzer tearing und quite possibly sprain it furzer."

"Oh," Amanda said, wincing, "I didn't realize it was that bad."

"Should not leave any permanent damage," the man remarked, "It vill heal, don't vorry."

"I'll try not to."

There was another long pause. Amanda looked at the bed and back at the man at the door. A few seconds passed.

"Could you help me?" she asked tentatively.

"Oh...vell…I vould luf to, um…"

Her eyebrows shot up. There was very definitely something strange going on.

"Vell…you cannot stay on ze floor…"

Kurt heaved a heavy sigh.

"Please do not be frightened."

"Excuse me?" asked Amanda.

Kurt sounded miserable when he spoke again.

"I hope zat you vill not be scared, but I know you vill."

"I don't know what you mean," Amanda said.

There was another sigh.

"You vill."

The door began to push open by inches, letting more light into the room. Amanda waited patiently as Kurt slipped into the room, confused somewhat by the incredibly peculiar circumstances she found herself in. Then the door opened fully. Her eyes widened and she let out a small gasp and chomped down on her lip.

Kurt looked at her sadly, his eyes big and golden. His skin was a dark indigo, rough and textured. Pointed ears peeked out beneath a tangle of black hair. If she concentrated she could see fangs through his lips. One of his hands nervously scratched the back of his neck but she could see that it only had three fingers on it.

A pointed tail swished nervously behind him. Since he wore no shoes she could see that he had two toes with hooked ankles. Overall the effect was something out of a storybook, the monster that the hero had to face at the end. She pulled her legs in and pushed herself up against the wall.

Seeing her reaction Kurt took a step back, holding his hands in front of him in surrender.

"I am going to leafe ze room right now," he said, "Be calm bitte. I am leafing."

Slowly he took deliberate steps away from her. His golden eyes continued to look at her sadly and Amanda found herself staring at him. Suddenly she felt like an idiot, and a cruel one at that. Kurt had saved her from what had had to be the most dangerous night of her life and now she was treating him like he was about to hurt her.

"I'm sorry," she blurted.

He stopped moving, cocking his head to the side.

"I'm really sorry," Amanda said, "I shouldn't have done that. I was surprised but that was no excuse. I'm so sorry."

Kurt continued to stare at her.

"Apology accepted?" he ventured.

Swallowing Amanda held out her hand. He redirected his stare to her hand, like it was something he'd never seen before.

"Oh, sorry," she said, "Um…could you please help me up? If you still want to."

The seconds passed without him making a move in one direction or another. He just continued to stare at her hand. As time went by Amanda began to think that he was going to turn around and leave the room. She wouldn't blame him if he did. Amanda hadn't exactly been the image of gratitude.

Then he took a step towards her and grasped her hand, his fingers going on the outside. His hand felt like sandpaper under her touch but he was strong. At one point he practically lifted her a few inches off the floor. Leaning on his arm she travelled the few steps to the bed and got in, stretching out her legs. Amanda gave him a grateful smile.

"Thank you," she said, "You've done a lot for me."

His eyes scanned her for a moment before he shrugged.

"It's vhat I do."


	8. Chapter 8

"You realize this is bad idea, da?"

"Vatti," Kurt said sharply as he opened the cupboard, "You have said zat a lot."

"It is true," shrugged Azazel, "You should have brought her to monastery."

"Und you have said zat too."

"I was not sure you were listening," Azazel said, taking a sip of his coffee, "So, how did it go when you needed to be seen?"

"How did you know?"

"Besides fact I am father and know everything?" asked Azazel.

Kurt rolled his eyes. Finding the crushed garlic he took the top off the noodle pot and sprinkled some in. It was his turn to cook that night and, if he had it his way, he'd be cooking every night. He wasn't sure how he'd managed to survive until he became old enough to make something for himself. It had opened a whole new culinary world for him; one that wasn't burnt and crispy.

"I am nineteen; zat ist not eine excuse anymore."

"It is true," Azazel smirked, "But come now Kurt; think common sense. She cannot walk, she fell, she needed help. You were not wearing mask, which is bad. You are always supposed to wear mask-"

"-und shoes, und gloves," said Kurt, "Ja, but what if she hurt herself?"

"She has concussion and sprained ankle," Azazel said blankly, "I do not think bruising self is big deal."

"Vatti!"

"Da, da," said Azazel, waving away Kurt's protests, "So, how did it go?"

He put the garlic away and jabbed at the noodles thoughtfully.

"Not bad."

Azazel raised an eyebrow.

"Not bad?" he asked.

"Vell, she vas frightened at first," admitted Kurt, "But not for long. She apologized vhen I left. She…"

His voice trailed off. Azazel frowned and put his coffee mug down.

"Da?"

"She asked me to help her up…"

"Again, obvious."

"Vell, Amanda-"

"Oh, her name is Amanda?" asked Azazel.

Kurt picked up the pot and scooped two portions into two bowls. He stuck a fork in each of them and passed a bowl to his father before sitting down. His father's eyes were on him and he suddenly felt incredibly self-concious. The story he was about to relay was a first.

"I introduce self, she introduced self," Kurt muttered.

"Reasonable," Azazel said.

As his father began to eat Kurt hesitated. He ate a few forkfuls but he could tell that his father was waiting for the rest of the story.

"I did not haf gloves on vhen I vent in, und I didn't get zem before helping her up..."

Azazel stopped eating abruptly. Slowly he put his fork down and gave his son a serious look. Kurt flinched as though he'd been caught doing something wrong.

"I did not hear scream."

"Because she did not," he said.

His father continued to give him an odd look. The admission that someone had touched his strange skin for the first time and not been repulsed was a strange one to say. His father's surprise only helped further it along.

"You have come across someone decent then," Azazel said, turning back to his food, "Someone who is not mu'dak."

While Kurt wasn't as fluent in Russian as his father, he had gained a rather pronounced German accent, he knew what that meant. Between their two dominant languages a sense of confusion could enter the household. It was the main reason Kurt had learned English; so they would have a language that they could use to mediate between their two dominant languages.

"Vatti," he said, "zat vas not good vord."

"My table, I swear how I want," Azazel said, bringing another forkful to his lips, "You must admit, most we have to keep are mu'daks."

"I vill not say zat."

"Call them what you want, but that is truth of the matter," said Azazel, "Remember that couple from Norway? My mask slipped as I helped out of avalanche?"

He winced.

"Ah, you do," Azazel said, "I do not wish to sound harsh but you must never forget where we are is protected, hidden. I have seen what people do to those who are even little different outside. Not even need to look it."

A gloomy yet fierce expression crossed his father's face. Kurt looked down and resumed eating. It was a sore subject with his father and Kurt had tried to avoid it whenever it came up, knowing how his father felt. Kurt had spent almost his entire life in the house that they'd been given by Brother Matthew, never venturing too far down the slopes. It was a sheltered existence though the weather could make life hard at times.

Azazel though, Azazel had travelled many places. Kurt had been told snatches of his life and had come to understand that his father hadn't always been as peaceful a man as he was then. Azazel had his outbursts of temper and had occasionally fought people who were trying to harm others, but Kurt knew he was capable of more. His father hadn't come by his large collection of swords by chance.

So unlike Kurt Azazel knew what was really out there beyond the mountains. He made sure that Kurt understood what people were capable of. He trained him to fight in case he would ever need to do so. Kurt couldn't quite believe that humans were as terrible as that though. If they were so bad then why had Azazel agreed to rescue them from the cruel weather year after year?

Besides, he had seen many examples of humans being good and generous. Brother Matthew had taken them in, and so had several other monks at the monastery. They gave Kurt birthday gifts and extra sides of meat on special occasions. Brother Matthew was the closest thing his father had to a friend and had taught him.

He could not believe that God had created mutants, as his father called thier kind, simply to be persecuted. There must be a deeper reason somewhere, though he did not know it yet. Perhaps it was something he was not meant to know. Either way he tried not to argue it with his father that much.

Another subject that he tried to avoid was his mother. Kurt was curious; who wouldn't be? However, whenever his father did bring it up it his father became sad and bitter. The more Kurt heard about her the more he got the feeling that his mother hadn't died, as he'd thought when he was younger. From the scraps he did have he wondered if his mother had abandoned them both. Azazel didn't resent Kurt's presence though, so maybe it had happened another way.

"Ja vatti," Kurt said quietly, "but Amanda ist not afraid. Und I am glad zat she is not."

Azazel sighed and leaned back. He fixed Kurt with a sharp look and, for a moment, Kurt wondered if his thoughts had shown on his face. He wondered if his father knew that when he'd first seen Amanda lying in the snow, her golden hair spread out arund her, he'd wondered if perhaps she'd been an angel.

He tried to keep his face carefully blank and his father sighed.

"Could be afraid when sees me. Maybe I would be last straw, da?"

Kurt looked up to see that his father's lips were curled in a smirk.

"I look a little stranger zan you I zink," Kurt said.

"Why say that?" asked Azazel, "You inherited my good looks."

They laughed but Azazel quickly sobered.

"Matthew said storm could last several weeks during last trip to monastery," he sighed, "Her leg will heal up in few days. The concussion is not good, da, but not serious. **Amanda** will be fine."

He sighed.

"Best introduce her to me before starts walking around."

"Again, I do not zink it vill be zat big of a deal," Kurt said.

He finished his food and headed towards the sink. He put the bowl there and picked another bowl from the shelf.

"What are you doing?"

Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Do you vant her to starve?"

"Oh, right. Needs food."

Rolling his eyes one more time he put the bowl onto a tray with a glass of water. He began to teleport just as his father said;

"She does know you teleport, right?"

A second later he appeared in the middle of his room. Normally he would have to see where he was going, but he knew the inside of his house like the back of his hand. It was like a second nature to him to teleport when carrying things since he didn't have to open doors. It was probably why he'd forgotten to mention it to Amanda.

She gave a small squeak of surprise as he landed in the middle of the room. He shrank back almost immediately, realizing his mistake.

"Entschuldigung! Entschuldigung!" he babbled.

Amanda stared at him, her beautiful blue-green eyes wide.

"You just appeared out of nowhere…" she said.

"Ja, ja, I do zat," he managed, "But I vas not zinking, of course I should haf said somezing first."

Amanda's eyes stayed wide for a moment longer before returning to their normal size.

"You know, that actually makes a lot of sense," Amanda said, rubbing her head.

She looked at him and he swallowed. he hadn't felt this nervous in years. Gently he placed the tray next to her. She looked at it before picking up the fork and taking a bite.

"Hey," she said, "This is spaetzle, isn't it?"

"Ja," Kurt said, surprised, "I did not think English tourist vould be familiar vith it."

"I'm not exactly a tourist or English," she said, "I was actually born in Germany."

"Nein?"

"Munich," Amanda said, "My mother and father were German but we moved away when I was little. I can barely count to ten in German now."

"I am sorry to hear that," Kurt said.

"I'm working on it," said Amanda, "Feels odd being from some place and barely being able to speak the language."

He coughed.

"Miene vatti says that the storm is supposed to last a vhile," he said, "I know I am not most interesting company, but I could help vith that."

Amanda looked up at him and smiled.

"Well, it would take a while for all this to heal anyway. But really?" she said, "I'm terrible at this sort of thing, so you probably won't get me past fifteen or so."

Kurt laughed and shook his head.

"Ve vill see about zat Amanda," he said, "But, if you do not mind me asking, vhy did your family move avay vhen you were so young?"

"Oh, I don't mind at all. They worked with a travelling circus," Amanda explained.

"Really?" asked Kurt, interested.

"Yeah, used to go all these different places," she said.

She ate another bite and drank some of her water.

"But my mother used to make this on Tuesdays," she explained, "I never knew why it was always Tuesdays, but she did."

Amanda paused, her lips moving as though she were unsure whether or not to go on. He thought he saw her eyes mist over before she continued.

"This is really good though," she said.

"Oh," Kurt said, "Vatti alvays said I add to much garlic."

"You made this?" she asked.

"Ja…"

"You're pretty good," she said.

Heat flooded his cheeks. Kurt fought the blush. He knew his face became purplish when he did that, and it wasn't a particularly flattering shade of the color.

"Vell, danke," he said

Amanda continued eating and looked at the bookcase. Kurt suddenly became conscious of how messy his entire room was. Feeling nervous he said;

"I am sorry about ze mess," he said, "Ze guest room has been made up. I could move you zere after you are done."

"Of course," Amanda said, "I wouldn't want to deprive you of your room."

"Vell, you can see ze state it's in," he said dryly, "Sometimes it is nice to get out of it."

Amanda laughed and then looked back at the bookcase, taking a bite and swallowing before speaking.

"Are any of those in English?" she asked, "It's just I was wondering if I could borrow one or two while I was here-"

"Ja, you can do zat. Some of ze older vones are in English," he said, "Ze monastery gaf me a few repeats, a few in different languages, zat sort of thing."

She cocked her head

"You and your father work for the monastery?"

"Sort of as groundskeepers. More or less," Kurt shrugged, "Ve help save people who are stuck in bad veather or in trouble. You haf seen vhat I did vhen I came; I inherited zat ability from miene vatti."

"Again, makes a lot of sense."

Finishing her meal she pushed herself forward. Throwing the blankets off her toes skimmed the floor. He hurried over to help her to her feet, though she still wobbled.

"All ready to go," said Amanda.

"Alright," Kurt said, "Zis vill feel strange for you; make you lightheaded perhaps. Ready?"

"Ready."

He gripped her hand tightly and thought of the guest room down the hall. Then, in a flash of black smoke, they were gone.


	9. Chapter 9

"Try putting some veight on it."

Amanda looked at Kurt doubtfully. Over the past week she had come to trust him implicitly. He'd been her companion and caretaker, sometimes appearing in her room at random times. She got used to it when food was going to be served, but asked that he knock on the door at other times. Kurt had agreed and left Amanda wondering just how much his father and he knocked on each other's door. It was probably easier to just appear when they both had that power and it wasn't like they were unfamiliar with using it.

Beyond that he taught her a few German words and had given her a few scraps of information about his life. He was somewhat secretive, especially about his early childhood, which left Amanda rather curious. He said that he'd grown up in that house and lived there all his life, so what was there to be secretive about?

However, she kept reminding herself that she was a guest in that house. Any information they gave her or stories they relayed were a privilege that she couldn't squander. They weren't hers to inquire about. In many ways she was jealous that Kurt hadn't spent his life being shuffled from one place to another, but again it wasn't in her rights to press for details. Amanda was just passing through on to the observatory, after which she'd probably never see the Kurt again.

A small spike of regret went through her but she shook it off. At the same time though, her not asking details was an interesting juxtaposition to Kurt's attitude. He asked several questions about what her life was like before her accident. When she'd told him that she was a dancer he'd become determined to see her walking again. It was touching that he was concerned about her, although her leg still felt wobbly. Understandably this made her reluctant to try to move around.

It wasn't as though she had been confined to bed. She had taken to holding onto the wall, putting all her weight on her left foot and doing a sort of hop until she got to where she was trying to go. She'd had sprained ankles before as a dancer, never that bad, but she knew how to get around in a fashion.

That didn't mean that it didn't look ridiculous. Kurt had laughed the first time she'd done it and she'd flashed him a look. He'd stopped but she could tell that he was still amused by it. Walking on two feet was an entirely different thing though.

"Okay," Amanda said, gripping his hand tightly, "Just make sure I don't fall."

"Haf faith. Just because you fell yesterday does not mean zat much," said Kurt, "Vatti said it should be better, und he knows vhat he is saying."

Amanda sighed. She'd met Kurt's enigmatic father two days previous when, with Kurt's supervision and support, she'd stretched her legs. The overall effect of his appearance had been strange, but she'd been well prepared after meeting his son. His annoyance at her extended stay was remembered though, and she had a feeling it was going to be harder to get along with him than it was with his son.

The conversation had been brief.

"Vatti, zis ist Amanda," Kurt had said.

He'd looked up from the book he was reading briefly before looking back at the book and turning the page.

"Vatti…"

"I will look up and pay attention when you use Russian."

Kurt gave Amanda an exasperated look.

"Game we play," he sighed.

She stifled laughter when Kurt said, his voice and accent exaggerated;

"Otets, razreshitie predstaveet Amanda."

Azazel rolled his eyes and shut his book.

"Pleased to make acquaintance," he said.

There was something slightly irritated in his tone. She couldn't tell if it was at being interrupted while he was reading or if it was some of his residual irritation at her staying. Amanda hadn't forgotten the conversation she'd heard when she woke up, and the storm was showing no sign of letting up after the week she'd been there.

Feeling awkward Amanda shifted the foot that was carrying most of her weight.

"Thank you for letting me stay," she said, "I'm sorry for all the trouble."

He waved his hand.

"Has my syn not told you? This is what we do," he said, picking up his book again.

Kurt shook his head and had guided her away. That had been the last of that. She'd tried walking on her own with Kurt next to her later that day, but had fallen to the ground. Looking incredibly embarrassed Kurt had helped her to her feet but she hadn't tried again. Now she gripped his hand tightly and tried to bring one foot to another.

She managed to do so. Kurt began to unwind his hand from hers and Amanda gradually put more weight on her leg. Then, with great care, he let go of her hand and Amanda distributed her weight across both legs. When she didn't fall down immediately she smiled and turned to Kurt, who was grinning madly.

"Try eine step," he said.

"We're really going to push it?" asked Amanda.

"Ja."

Sighing Amanda stepped forward with her left foot. The motion was awkward; she was used to stepping with her right. However, she managed to take a full step without falling. Emboldened she took a second step, and a third. When she tried to take a fourth she began wobbling and Kurt grabbed her hand to steady her.

His grip was so tight it was painful. She held on until she got to her feet before beginning to loosen his hand. He frowned at her.

"I'm okay," she said, "I just think that I can get back to the bed by myself, you know?"

Looking uncertain he nodded and let go. She managed to get back, although she nearly fell onto the mattress with the last step. Kurt teleported so that he was balancing on the footboard in something resembling a crouch. His arms rested on his knees, his hands dangling down. She saw his tail flicker back and forth behind him.

One thing that Amanda envied about him as a dancer was his balance. Kurt could balance anywhere and she wondered if it was due to his tail. At the same time she'd watched him cook the day before and seen that his tail operated as a sort of third arm. She'd asked him how he managed to keep track of it and he looked at her in surprise.

"How do you keep track of eiene leg?" he asked.

It was a valid point. She wondered if it was built into his brain, just like how he could teleport. Kurt had told her he and his father had been born this way, that apparently there were people like him all around the world with special abilities. He told her that his father had found a few when he was younger.

Amanda had listened to the news thoughtfully. She had grown up around people who could balance on their fingers, do magic tricks, and turn their heads all the way around. Amanda had always thought that it was just a gift, some sort of quirk. Now she began to wonder if they were mutants like Kurt and his father. It was something to think about when she returned to the Circus, no doubt about it.

Once she got into her bed she stretched.

"I'll be dancing in no time," she declared.

He smiled at her, nodding to himself. Pulling the blankets around her Amanda reached for her book, one of several Kurt owned in English. The sheer number of books in the house had surprised her until she realized that there was no T.V. It made sense; there weren't any phones either and power lines must be scarce that far in the mountains.

Sometimes he would bring a book and read it with her in her room so that she wouldn't be alone all the time. It was considerate and she loved that he took the time to do it. As they read she noticed that the book he was the fondest of bringing up was the Bible that she had seen on his nightstand.

Even though she had been raised in a Christian household Amanda rarely read the Bible for recreational purposes. In a way it made sense that he would be so religious; he had been raised in part by monks. However, from the thumbing the pages got she could see that he had read it more than once. Afterwards she had noticed that he generally kept a rosary in her pocket.

She'd asked about it and learned that he kept it with him every time he went out. In all probability he'd had it with him the night he'd rescued her. That was plenty to thank God for; she probably would have died of exposure in another hour or two. It had been a miracle that he'd found her.

This time she couldn't remember him bringing a book though. So she looked up as she opened the book. His eyes were still fixed on her.

"You planning on just staring at me all day?" she teased.

"I think I am more interesting than book," he said, his lower lip sticking out in a mock-pout, "Much more. Put avay."

Rolling her eyes Amanda out it down and crossed her arms.

"Alright," she said, "What do you want to talk about then?"

He shrugged as his tail began swishing back and forth faster.

"Vell, vhat are you reading?"

Amanda picked up the book and waved it in front of Kurt.

"I'm not reading anything at the moment, thanks to you," Amanda said.

She dropped the book and Kurt smirked.

"Fine, vhat **vere **you reading?"

"_Around the World in Eighty Days_," Amanda said.

"Ze book by ze Frenchman," Kurt said disdainfully.

"Verne isn't bad," said Amanda, "He can lag somewhat but he's not that bad."

"Ja. Much better zan your English writers, all doom und gloom," said Kurt.

"You know I'm German," she said, rolling her eyes.

"_Vuthering Heights_," continued Kurt, ignoring her, "Vhat a story zat vas."  
>He grimaced.<p>

"Oh, I am such tragic hero. I vill now haf voman I love, who vas married to somevone else, dug up so I can hold her corpse," Kurt said dramatically, "Und zen, I vill kidnap her daughter und make her marry my son in some sort of veird vengeance."

Amanda giggled and Kurt sniffed.

"Vhat a man zat Heathcliff. Vhat an unpleasant fellow," Kurt said, "But I vould not like to meet any of zat book's characters, none at all."

"You can't blame me for what some woman wrote hundreds of years ago," said Amanda defensively, "And what were you doing reading that anyway?"

"I vas bored," Kurt said, "I had just finished vith Marx und I vanted somezing a little less…philosophical."

She frowned.

"You read Marx?"

"Ja," Kurt said, frowning in turn, "Somezing vrong vith zat?"

Amanda bit back the words on the tip of her tongue.

"No, just unusual where I come from," she settled on.

"Vhy ist zat?"

"Well," Amanda said, feeling awkward at having to explain this, "There's this…Germany and Russia…England too…they're not exactly friends at the moment."

"Vell, ja," Kurt said, "Does not mean I haf to stop reading books."

"No, it's just kind of weird that you have a copy," Amanda said.

A thought occurred to her.

"Then again, your father is Russian, isn't he?"

"Special ops in ze second var," Kurt said proudly, "Not communists, understand, but he did serve. Und I read book. Not bad book, heafy reading, but not bad."

She hesitated, thinking of the wall she had seen in Berlin on her way to Munich. Amanda remembered watching Gorbachev's, the Soviet head of state, summit with President Reagan of the United States on T.V. She remembered how scared her mother seemed. Although Amanda had grown up in a world that was starting to turn away from fears of nuclear war her mother hadn't forgotten.

At the same time she wasn't in much of a position to judge. Even if they were communists then it wouldn't be any of her business and, again, they weren't doing any harm. Yet, she felt glad that he had shared that with her. There was something very open about him.

"The more I find out about you and your father the more I want to label you the most interesting family in the world," she said.

"Vhat? It is not as zough ve go around doing dangerous zings every day," Kurt said, "I haf nefer been outside zese mountains. Nefer performed in circus."

His voice sounded slightly wistful. Suddenly Amanda wondered if perhaps he was as envious of her as she was of him. That could be why he asked her so many questions of what lay beyond the mountains, the boundaries of his world. She looked at his golden eyes and, for the first time, wondered if perhaps he wanted to do something more.

"You're incredible Kurt," she said, "Just incredible."

He smiled at her and then looked down at the watch he was wearing.

"Ugh, it is nearly dinner time," he said, "Vatti is cooking, but I vill make somezing different for you. You are recofering from injury; it vill not do to make you sick too."

"Your father can't be that bad," Amanda smiled.

"Hah, he burned vater vonce," snorted Kurt, "I should take ofer, I really should. Vell, I vill see you soon."

He waved before disappearing in a black cloud of smoke. Although she was used to it she could tell that he still did it sometimes to surprise her. Amanda shook her head and picked up her book again. She found it hard to concentrate on the plot though. For some reason a blue-skinned mutant kept coming into her thoughts, his opinion on 'ze Frenchman' ringing in her ears.


	10. Chapter 10

Azazel's tail smacked the couch next to him as he stared at the book that, until a few minutes ago, had been absorbing his time. Then he'd heard the noise from upstairs, and the words on the page seemed to run together into nothingness. It was a sound that struck terror into his heart; someone was giggling.

In short, Azazel was worried. He was used to worrying about many things in his life, though many of those worries had disappeared as he'd gotten older. He'd worried that he wasn't going to survive to see the next day, that he'd make an inadequate soldier, lover, and more recently, father. He'd feared that, when push came to shove, he'd let people down when they needed him the most.

However, he'd survived. Looking back on his time where each hour seemed like such a miracle that he sometimes wondered how he'd done it. Certainly his ability to get out of an area quickly had helped when he was younger, but it had been at thirteen that he realized how he could really survive. It was then that he discovered his ability to kill efficiently and effectively. He'd even found that a certain detachment had come with it.

It had been that detachment that had made him into a damn good soldier. Any of his commanders could be asked; no matter what, he delivered. It didn't matter what they wanted of him, he'd done it with a clinical detachment and speed that the top men in the Soviet military could only dream of.

As for a lover, Azazel knew he'd at least tried. God knew that he'd tried and for a while it looked like he'd succeeded. It made his failure all the more disappointing. Still, he wasn't the one to blame for the crumbling of his only relationship. Certainly he'd been the one to end it, but that had not been his fault. He was sure of that.

Azazel was also somewhat confident in his abilities as Kurt's father. He'd raised him to the age of nineteen and Kurt had never known want or neglect. Even if Azazel had had to save more humans than he'd felt comfortable with, it had been the price he'd paid for his son's safety. It was the bargain of the century.

From the fact that Kurt was a well-mannered young man Azazel had physical proof that he'd done well. He'd proudly show him to the Brotherhood, who'd dared to doubt that he wouldn't be able to do it. It was only Angel and Magneto that had given thier unwavering support.

Over the years he'd made changes, accommodated, and become a father. For that he deserved gloating rights. His son could defend himself but was not violent. Kurt was self-sufficient and educated but did not shun company. He was mischievous, but a person without a sense of humor was a boring one indeed.

Azazel took his parenthood seriously. It had been his longest running occupation and one that he attempted to master. Unlike most other fathers Azazel hadn't had a constant companion to help in raising Kurt from a baby, keeping him healthy, always being the one waking up in the middle of the night, and answering irritating childhood questions. Sometimes it nearly drove him mad, but he did it and did it proudly.

So it would go without saying that any perceived threat to his son was regarded with venom and suspicion. It also caused worry, and not a casual worry like if they had enough flour for the month. It was a deep worry that gnawed on the inside of his stomach and turned him inside out.

To give credit where credit was due, Amanda seemed like a nice girl. She had a strike in his book for being human, but he was starting to accept that that was somewhat out of anyone's control. Azazel could tell that Kurt enjoyed talking to her, and her stories of circus life entertained him. It was innocent enough. There was nothing wrong with a friendship, although Azazel knew that it would cause some pain when she left. However, Kurt had gotten used to people having transitory roles in his life.

No, what worried him was the look in Kurt's eyes whenever he said Amanda's name. It was an adoring one, accompanied by a faint smile. Azazel recognized that look and dreaded it. That look made his stomach tie itself into knots and do flip-flops, made him want to run up to his son and shake some sense into him.

He had worried, of course, that something like this would happen. His worry had reached a fever pitch when a family was trapped in an avalanche. They had rescued them and, because of the weather, they hadn't been able to take them to the monastery.

The couple had had two children; a boy and a girl. The boy had been ten but the girl had been sixteen, Kurt's age at the time. Azazel couldn't remember the girl's name, but she'd struck up a friendship with his son. He'd worried and worried, but he'd never seen anything like the look that was now on Kurt's face. Instead, after two weeks, the family had left and they'd never seen them again. Kurt had been sad that his friend had gone, but she had been just that; a friend.

In short Amanda was not the first girl that had had to stay with them for a little while. That was why the fact that he had the look now was worrying. It meant that he wasn't just a naïve teenager with a crush. This meant that things were getting serious, which was worse than just about anything Azazel could have dreamed.

Friendship would have been fine, but Amanda was not Kurt's friend. Oh, he could see that all they had was friendship. That was, friendship for the moment. He could tell that Kurt, however, was getting ideas. Azazel was familiar with such ideas. Those ideas weren't good ones for someone in Kurt's situation to have.

Closing his eyes he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Why now?"

Unfortunately he did know why it wasn't now. Nineteen years in one place, never seeing anything else, couldn't be the ideal life for someone like Kurt. He wanted to get up and go but understood why he should stay where he was. Love was different. It had too much of a pull. No matter what Azazel had said he knew that now that his son was in love he wanted that love to be returned.

It wasn't even like he could really stop him. Kurt was nineteen; not the small boy who was having trouble with his tail and teleporting. He wasn't going to teleport into his father's arms and surprise him or wake up in the middle of the night because, in his sleep, he'd teleported into the living room.

He was old enough to make his own choices about life. Azazel knew that he was sheltered though, something that had been hard for him not to do. He'd never had the chance to be sheltered as a child himself . More than anyone Azazel knew that the realities of life were cruel; he had simply not wanted to introduce them to Kurt.

From upstairs he heard more laughter. He sighed and shut his book, feeling depressed. Kurt's era of sheltering, of protection, was going to end if this went on for too much longer. The look was going to intensify; he'd already seen it doing so. Three weeks was a long time and he'd spent most of it with the girl upstairs.

Right now the two existed in a state of equilibrium, but he knew that it wasn't going to last. Given time he knew that Kurt was going to say something to Amanda. It was in his nature to be forthright. Azazel tried not to picture things as he believed they would go, but it was hard. It would only end with his son in pain, a pain that Azazel knew far too well. It wasn't something he wanted his son to experience. Ever.

Although Azazel wasn't nearly as religious as his son, he found himself praying that the storm would end soon. Secretly he prayed that she would never have come, but he realized that that was unrealistic. If the storm ended soon then they could take Amanda to the monastery or the observatory or wherever it was she needed to go. Then she would be gone forever. The look would fade from Kurt's eyes. He would be disappointed but not shattered. It would be better that way.

Now, if only the weather would cooperate, he might be able to put off his son's rude awakening for a few more years. 

* * *

><p>"Nein, I am serious," Kurt said.<p>

Amanda looked at him incredulously, an expression that he returned with a smug smile. They had been studying German and they'd come across possessive terms. As they'd studied he couldn't help but try and avail her of a few things she'd heard. He'd found out, gleefully, that she had a few misconceptions.

"No, my mother said he said that," Amanda protested.

"Vas she zere?"

"Well…no…"

Kurt jumped onto the footboard triumphantly. Amanda recoiled before rolling her eyes.

"It makes for funny story, ja, I vill gife you zat. But Brozer Matthew vas zere vhen he vas speaking," said Kurt, "Got ze day off of school just for zat. Ze President did not say he vas eiene jelly doughnut."

"But I heard that he did," protested Amanda.

She tugged her comb through her long blonde hair. Momentarily Kurt let himself be distracted by the motion, but continued to keep his game face on. She was frowning and looking like she was a fighting a losing battle. Amanda was, and she was about to have the final blow dealt.

"You heard vrong," said Kurt, "Nein, did not say 'I am citizen of Berlin'. True. Grammar is important you know. But did not say jelly doughnut. Did say 'I am vone vith people of Berlin.' Zat ist ze truth."

"I'll be," Amanda said, leaning back.

He smirked at her as she put her comb on the side table.

"You should never go against me vhen somezing like zis is on line," Kurt said, his voice smug, "Just because I lif in mountains does not make me ignorant."

"I never said you were ignorant!" Amanda said, "You're smarter than most of the boys I know at the circus, I'll give you that."

Inwardly he glowed with pride. However, he wasn't quite finished with his gloating yet. He got too few opportunities to do it with his father.

"Zere is nozing I do not know!" he declared, "I am genius!"

"Oh really?" asked Amanda sarcastically.

"Nein. Nothing at all."

"What's the square root of pi?" she asked.

He frowned, scrunching up his chin. It wasn't a question that he was going to take lightly and he gave it due consideration.

"Cherry or apple?" he asked.

Amanda blinked.

"Pardon?"

"Zis pie," he said, "is it cherry or apple?"

She rubbed her temples, looking exasperated.

"Not that kind of pie," Amanda said.

"Ah. So it vould be peach zen?" he asked.

Amanda rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

"You know Kurt, sometimes I think you're really mature but then two seconds later I realize-"

"Of course, mathematically it vould be 1.772453851," said Kurt thoughtfully, "If you vanted mathematical, of course."

He took in her wide eyes and open mouth with no little amount of satisfaction.

"My class only had vone student in it, so I vas top of it," Kurt said, "Vould haf been boring if I did not know vhat vas going on. So vhy vould I not know zese things?"

Her eyes were still wide and he threw his head back and laughed.

"Vonce again I am triumphant!" he declared, throwing his hands into the air, "Vonce again I am ubermensch! Vonce again-"

A pillow cut him off in mid-sentence. He struggled to regain his balance for a minute before looking up at Amanda's smug face.

"-lost for words?" she suggested.

His eyes narrowed and he tossed the pillow back. She dodged it and threw it at him again. Again it hit his face. He batted it down and looked at her. Amanda had pushed herself out of her bed, her feet landing on the floor solidly. Before he could do anything she had put herself out of his throwing range. Her movements were still awkward, but she was almost up to normal dexterity.

"You should be resting," he warned.

"And get a face full of pillow?" she asked, "I don't think so?"

Grinning he teleported so he was inches in front of her. She coughed but in one swift movement he picked her up and strode up to the bed.

"Let go!" she protested.

"Doktor's orders. Bed rest," he declared before dropping her unceremoniously back into bed, "But no face full of-ach!"

At the last moment she pulled his hair, making him drop to the floor. His knees hit the floorboard and his eyes narrowed at her laughing face.

"Got you back," she declared.

He tried to come up with some witty retort before he noticed how close he was to her face. Part of him chided himself. It wasn't that close really, and they weren't even touching. Yet, he felt like something held him glued in place. His eyes flickered down to her lips and he felt himself wondering what they would feel like against his. Soft probably, not at all like his skin.

"Kurt?" she asked, her voice quiet.

Kurt didn't answer, just swallowed nervously. Looking back at her he saw that she was staring at him with wide eyes. They weren't caused by astonishment though. They were caused by something else and he wondered if she felt what he was feeling too, that strange magnetic pull.

"Kurt!"

Starting he jumped to his feet. He resisted the urge to see if his father had walked into the room, had somehow known what he was feeling.

"Zat ist miene vatti," he babbled, "Somezing for me to do, or zat I forgot to do, somezing like zat, ja."

Amanda was still staring at him with those wide eyes. Completely disoriented Kurt teleported away, trying to push down the burning feeling that had started in his cheeks.


	11. Chapter 11

Amanda was, by no means, the type of person who got scared by fire. She'd grown up amidst noisy pyrotechnics and had danced amidst charcoal pits of fire colored with metal. Once or twice she'd even been pulled in to assist launching fireworks, watching their color fill the night sky and hearing their explosions.

It was why she was able to light all of the fires in the house without so much as batting an eye. Her leg had improved to the point where she wasn't afraid to walk around by herself anymore, and the bandage had long since been removed from her head. With these injuries no longer weighing herself down she'd determined that she could at least help her rescuers. She wasn't a lay about.

Kurt had protested that she was a guest, but she wasn't going to sit around when there was work to be done. They had argued back and forth about it until Azazel had come in, an eyebrow quirked at their raised voices. Obviously embarrassed Kurt had explained what it was about. Azazel had listened and then rolled his eyes before saying;

"She is not asking to** build** house. Let her."

Then, with a puff of smoke, he was gone. Grumpily Kurt had given in but had insisted he be the one to get the wood from outside. He was the one who could teleport outside and she ceded the responsibility. However, it was her who lit the fires in the morning and got the stove going. They had one of those old ones but Amanda had gotten the hang of it after a while.

Kurt was still cagey about her doing work but Amanda continued to insist. It was the least she could do. Besides, she liked helping Kurt. It meant that he wasn't going out of his way to see her; instead she had become a part of his day. The thought made her blush slightly but she made sure not to do so in front of other people. She'd been raised to pay attention to decorum and not run around being silly. As such she had a pretty good reign on public displays of her emotions.

In private her feelings were another thing. Amanda hadn't exactly lived ascetically at home. The flashy lifestyle of the Munich Circus wasn't something that encouraged being anti-social. Her mother had watched any boy that wanted to come near her like a hawk though. She had old-fashioned standards and curfews that had been strictly enforced since Amanda's first boyfriend at fifteen.

She wondered why her mother had worried so much. Amanda hadn't even kissed her first boyfriend. It was her second that gave her her first kiss and that was as intimate as it had gotten. Word travelled fast around the small community and if something had happened she knew she'd have her mother demanding that the boy marry her the next day.

It wasn't the fear of her mother finding out that had kept her back from that kind of intimacy though. Sure, Amanda had liked each of her boyfriends. She hadn't loved them, not really. It wasn't the kind of love that would encourage her to do that. She hadn't seen anything wrong with her reluctance; she was young after all.

Keeping her relationships in those terms were simple. She'd had three boyfriends in all, the first lasting three months, the second six, and the third five. There had been space in between them; she hadn't been boy crazy or desperate. They happened spontaneously and, as long as she didn't think long-term, things remained simple.

However, her feelings for Kurt were becoming quickly the most complicated things that she had ever felt. She could spend hours talking to him about absolutely nothing. His laugh was infectious, his mischief even more so. He had the air of one who considered the world a perfect miracle; every new discovery was brilliant and shining.

Even his silence seemed companionable somehow. They could be in the same room and not even talk with each other. It felt like they didn't need to. And then, no matter how silently he did it, no matter if she was facing the completely opposite direction, she'd know when he left. It was like some element of life had left the room.

She wasn't at all naïve, she knew what was happening. In the very least she was falling for him, and doing so hard and fast. At the most she had already hit the ground. Amanda feared for the latter option. It's not like it would amount to anything. Kurt might be the best person she had ever met, the first person she'd come near in months that made her feel like she was home, but that didn't mean anything.

She was going to leave as soon as the storm let up. Amanda would go to the observatory, deliver the box, and then leave. She'd board a plane and go back to England and rejoin the circus. And then she'd go back to her old life. There was no if about it, that was what was going to happen.

Logically Kurt was going to know that. He'd been rescuing people his whole life even if they didn't stay as long as she had. His kindness and company were part of who he was and nothing more. He was used to people coming and going and wouldn't want to cleave to someone who was going to be so transitory in his life. If there was any friendship between them it would stay just that; friendship. Then, after she'd gone, it would fade into his memory as an interesting few weeks with someone he liked talking to.

She should also know that and, as such, accept it. Amanda had had a strange and wonderful experience, but it was going to end soon. She should be excited to get back to her life. Everyone was waiting for her and she could get back to work. Amanda had enjoyed what she'd been doing, hadn't she? More and more her excitement about going home was beginning to wane.

However, what else could she do? They were her guardians; they were expecting her. If she waited too long the snow on her car would melt and they'd think she'd died. Amanda couldn't let them think that. Whatever foolish ideas she entertained she was going ot have to go back.

It was starting to hurt now. Amanda wished her mother were there so she could explain what she was feeling, the way her chest ached as she watched the snowflakes slow outside. Things were coming to an end and she was going to have to accept that. Even so she looked out at the dark night through the glass and felt her heart sink.

* * *

><p>"Storm should let up tomorrow," Azazel said, "One should go to monastery and get new supplies. Other should take Amanda to observatory."<p>

"Ja vatti," Kurt said listlessly.

His father looked at him. He'd caught Kurt going down stairs and had decided to start talking about practical matters with him. Kurt didn't want to be reminded that Amanda was leaving though, and now he was realizing that it had come too soon. He sighed and put his hands in his pockets.

"Malchick moy…"

His head raised in confusion at his childhood nickname. He hadn't been called that in years. When he did he could see that Azazel was looking at him with softened eyes.

"If you want, I could take Amanda to observatory."

Kurt shook his head.

"Nein, I will do it," he said.

Azazel put his hand on his shoulder. Kurt fought the urge to pull away. He didn't want to be pitied, just wanted to forget.

"Always knew she was going to leave," Azazel said gently, "Always understood."

"I understood vatti," said Kurt.

"Kurt," Azazel said, "I know what it is you are feeling."

Kurt looked away, bile building in his throat. He didn't want to have this conversation but he knew he had to.

"You know why it is we hide," Azazel continued, "I have told you this."

"Many times vatti," Kurt mumbled.

"We both know it is better this way," said Azazel.

Something inside him pulled tight and broke.

"Nein, it is not," he snapped, pulling away, "But thanks to you I know it is way it **has **to be."

"Kurt-"

"I am going downstairs."

His father stared at him as Kurt walked away, his hands still shoved in his pockets. Of course he'd known she was leaving. Yet, she'd been there so long that he'd gotten used to her presence, her laughter, her light. He felt special around her, like he was someone important.

She had been a traveler; she'd had a destination other than their house. That was how she'd gotten there. Amanda was just passing through. So why did it hurt to know she was going away? Kurt rubbed his temples and slouched down the stairs one step at a time. It wasn't just that he'd gotten used to her. He'd grown fond of her.

He snorted to himself, a habit he'd picked up from his father. Fond of her. It was wrong. The word sounded detached, like a feeling you would uste to describe a chair or a book. He wasn't fond of her. His feelings had a much stronger, passionate tint to them. Kurt would have given anything to simply be fond of her. Instead he felt something else.

As he came to the foot of the stairs he saw Amanda finishing up with the living room fire. Her golden hair spilled down her back, catching in teh light. An urge came over him to touch it, feel what it would be like to have her as close as they'd been that night they'd argued about Kennedy. He wanted to nuzzle into her neck and whisper a hello, have her lean back into his touch.

_"Things like love…they are difficult for most people. For us, harder. I do not want to give illusions that we can live and love like others. We cannot Kurt."_

One of his fists clenched. It wasn't fair, although he had never before had the opportunity to appreciate just how unfair it was. Swallowing his feelings he looked back at Amanda who'd finished with the fire. She brushed her hair back and looked over her shoulder. Seeing him she smiled and his head felt light.

"Morning Kurt," she said.

"Gut morning Amanda," Kurt replied.

His fist slowly began to unclench. If things were going to be unfair then he might as well get it over with.

"Miene vatti says storm should stop by tomorrow," Kurt said, "Und ve can take you up to observatory then."

Amanda's eyes widened.

"Oh…I didn't know that this qualified as slowing down," she said, gesturing to the window.

"The weather is strange," Kurt said, "But vatti has lifed here nineteen years. He knows what he means. Und zen I vill be able to teleport you up. Zey haf phones zere so you can call somevone to pick up car."

"I think that thing's totaled," she laughed, "God that's going to be expensive. I'll figure it out though. Make some more money, that kind of thing."

Kurt nodded, ignoring the lump in his throat.

"So, vhy did you vant to go to observatory?" asked Kurt, trying to change the subject, "You said somezing about mutter?"

"Yes," Amanda said, rubbing one arm with another, "She gave me this box that I'm supposed to give someone there. She was a little vague on that though."

"Oh," Kurt said, "Vhat ist in box?"

"I didn't look," Amanda said.

Kurt stared at her, shocked.

"You spend all zis time vith box und haf not looked in it?" he asked.

"I didn't think there was any point," Amanda confessed.

"Vell now I haf to know," sighed Kurt, "You should not haf told me."

"When did you get so nosy?" asked Amanda.

He gave her a blank look. She rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips.

"Okay, silly question," Amanda said, "But we're not going to open it up."

"Vhy not?" whined Kurt, "I vant to know."

"No."

"Bitte?"

"No."

"Bitte?"

"Why is this so important?" demanded Amanda.

"I am curious," he shrugged.

Letting her hands fall by her side she shook her head.

"You're not going to let this go, are you?" Amanda asked.

"Nein."

"Okay, one look," said Amanda, "And then we stop talking about it."

He nodded gleefully. Without a word he grabbed her hand and teleported them to her room. She coughed from the smoke and glared at him.

"You should have warned me," she said.

"I vill next time," he said dismissively, "Now, show."

Pursing her lips Amanda went over to her backpack. She fished out a small black box and walked back to him.

"Here we go," she said, unlatching the lid.

Kurt peered in. Resting on a black velvet cushion was an emerald surrounded by intricate golden designs. Small golden lines linked together to form an oval around the emerald. By peering closer he could see that in the middle of the emerald was an inky black dot. He cocked his head when he looked at it. It looked like it was a pendant, a pendant shaped like an eye.

He picked it up and watched it glint in his hand.

"I didn't know it would be like that," Amanda said, blinking at it and putting the box down.

"It ist unusual," Kurt agreed.

Frowning Amanda reached out and took it.

"I mean, we're not the type of people for family heirlooms," said Amanda.

"Vell, neizer are ve," Kurt said, "Not zat ve haf any family to haf herilooms from."

Amanda turned the pendant over in her hand again. She squinted one eye and looked at it, her gaze focusing on the emerald. Suddenly she stepped back and dropped the pendant. Kurt moved forward and caught it before it hit the ground.

"Ist somezing vrong?" he asked.

"I...it...no," Amanda stammered, "Sorry, it just reflected the light into my eyes. Kind of hurt."

Kurt nodded and gave her the pendant back to her. Amanda picked it up gingerly and returned it to the box, which she closed almost immediately. She returned it to her backpack and zipped it up.

"I still don't understand why it was so important for you to see it," Amanda said.

Wordlessly Kurt opened his mouth. Why was it important? Some part of him revolted that she could even ask that question. It was important because it was why she was leaving him, why she'd met him in the first place. He was never going to see her again and all because of that eye pendant.

He didn't say that though. He just shrugged and said;

"Nein reason."

* * *

><p>Kurt teleported out of the room and Amanda let out a breath that she'd been holding. Her eyes travelled warily over to her backpack where the black box was with the pendant inside it. Her hands trembling she picked up her backpack and put it under her bed. It made her feel a little more comfortable.<p>

There was no explaining it. When she looked through the emerald she saw Kurt, true enough. Behind him she saw his father though, and he definitely hadn't been in the room. A woman with Kurt's eyes and skin stood next to him with an expression that chilled Amanda's blood.

Next to the woman had been a bald man in a wheelchair, looking tired like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. A girl with brown hair with a white streak through it was near him, her hands in gloves. Further off she saw a whispy image of a woman with dark hair and wings. Further up had been a man with a helmet and cape, his expression even more terrifying than the woman with Kurt's eyes.

And then, in front of it all, she'd seen a beautiful little girl, giggling and dancing. The girl looked normal, except for her china blue skin. Her eyes were closed, moving with a grace unusual for her age, her voluminous black hair moving in a thick cloud around her.

Amanda felt herself drawn to the girl, her eye widening as she took in her features. Her ears were pointed something about her smile made Amanda's heart light as the girl danced in front of the other figures. Finally she did a cartwheel, landing on her feet with her arms thrown back in pride. Her eyes opened and Amanda saw her own blue-green eyes staring back at her.

Shock stuttered in her heart. Amanda had dropped the pendant like it was radioactive and realized that there really was no one in the room besides Kurt and her. So she told a lie and tried to shake off what she'd seen.

At least something good seemed like it would come out of going to the observatory; at least she'd be rid of that pendant.

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN: _**_If anyone can tell me what it is Amanda has without looking it up on the web I'd be duly impressed. You'll find out what it is in a few chapters though. _


	12. Chapter 12

Matthew hobbled down the hallway. Upon entering his study he sat down heavily and heaved a sigh. He had just crested his sixtieth year and with it had come a whole host of problems. For one the cold and damp of the monastery was not helping his rheumatism. He'd never been particularly healthy, and now it was starting to show.

He closed his eyes and sighed again, straightening against the pain in his back. He wasn't going to give up the monastery just because of a few aches and pains though. Everyone had them once in a while, and he wasn't about to leave the monastery that he'd spent forty years in. It was more his home than any other place that he could think of.

A soft noise and the smell of sulphur filled the room. Matthew made a gesture with his hand but didn't open his eyes.

"Would you lock the door Azazel?" he asked.

There was a slight shuffling and the bars on the doors slotted into place. Matthew opened his eyes and saw Azazel leaning against the wall, his tail swishing behind him.

"How you can always tell it is me and not syn," Azazel said, "is mystery."

"He teleports much more loudly," said Matthew, "And afterwards he generally says something like 'Good morning'."

"He does like to talk," Azazel said, sitting down in a chair opposite Matthew.

"Where is he by the way?" yawned Matthew, sitting up straighter, "I thought he would be here with you. You must need quite a bit after that last storm. There hasn't been one that's lasted that long for years."

Azazel stiffened and Matthew wondered if he'd said something wrong.

"He is…we had guest during storm," said Azazel, "Young devochka named Amanda."

"Oh?" asked Matthew, surprised, "And you're not bringing her to the monastery?"

"She was on way to observatory," Azazel said dismissively, "Kurt is bringing her there now. I come here."

"Well, a good trip to them both then," Matthew said.

He forced himself up and picked up a bottle from his shelves.

"I have some wine here," he said, "Good year, choice grapes. It was a Christmas shipment from the monastery in Rheingau, they send a few every now and then. This is a dessert wine, but one cannot be too picky about their gifts."

Azazel leaned forward. He knew about the monastery that they were friends with. Many was the time when the two of them had drunk the gifts of the monastery in the German wine country together, not too much since Matthew was still a monk. They would talk about books, Kurt's schoolwork, and some practical matters. A new bottle was a special occasion.

"Care for a glass?" he asked.

Azazel nodded his head.

"But vodka is still better than your German wines."

"I had some vodka once," Matthew said, taking down two glasses, "It made me feel like my throat had been invaded by fire ants and I needed to cough out dust balls."

"Da, how I miss it."

Matthew shook his head and poured some of the wine into two glasses. He passed one to Azazel who gulped down half of it almost immediately.

"You never did take time to savor any," he sighed, sitting back down.

"Sometimes you have to be quick," shrugged Azazel, "Not bad, this wine."

"Mmmhm," Matthew said.

He sniffed his for a minute before taking a small sip. When he was done he caught a slightly far away expression on Azazel's face. Frowning he put down his wine glass.

"Is something troubling you?" he asked.

"Nyet," Azazel said, "Nothing…"

From the way he trailed off Matthew could tell that something was definitely wrong.

"You know that I don't like to get into your business," Matthew said, "you always struck me as the kind of man who would resent any interference at all."

"You are good judge of character," Azazel said.

Matthew hesitated but decided to finish what he'd started.

"But you know you can talk about anything," he said, "I consider you a friend Azazel and I hope you consider me one as well."

Now it was Azazel's turn to hesitate.

"You have been good to my family," Azazel said, "Good…good friend."

Azazel sighed and leaned back.

"You know devochka I mention?" he asked, "Amanda?"

"Yes?"

"Kurt is in love with her."

His words were so blunt that Matthew felt taken aback.

"He's…told you this?" he asked.

"Nyet, but I know the signs," Azazel said, "Now she is leaving. I have tried to let him know what is out of bounds for him, what would only hurt him. But this lesson…this is one he decided to learn for self."

Matthew gave him a sad smile.

"I believe that that is something all parents want for their children; for them to learn the lesson without the pain," he said.

"But this is...very bad," Azazel said, "God forbid he decides to say something before she goes. It will make it worse."

"Are you so sure?" asked Matthew.

"Da. If he says nothing she can be one who got away," said Azazel, "Complete rejection will break heart."

"I mean, are you so sure that she'd reject him?" Matthew asked.

"Are you not?" snorted Azazel.

He paused, knowing that he would have to speak carefully.

"I know nothing of the persecution you've faced," he said softly, "Nothing of what it would be like if Kurt were actually found by people who were not…enlightened. But it strikes me that if this were a woman Kurt could fall in love with, well, he's not stupid. He wouldn't fall in love with someone who would reject him simply because he's a mutant."

Azazel remained silent and Matthew continued.

"I've never met Amanda," he said, "But it's likely that if he cares that much for her then it's likely she may feel some strong attachment to him, even if it's not love. I doubt she'd be disgusted; at worst she may let him down gently."

"It will still hurt him," Azazel said, "And then syn will...it will be over."

"What will?" asked Matthew, his brow furrowing.

Azazel snorted.

"He will lose much no matter what devochka says," Azazel said, "When he is hurt he will know what world is like. I have tried to protect him, but this will be end of that!"

Again Matthew paused, knowing that his next words were going to make an impact.

"Yes, it will," agreed Matthew, "And I'm sorry for that. But some things are unavoidable."

"Does not have to be. Or does not have to be **now**."

"Azazel, he's nineteen."

"I know syn's age, thank you!"

Wincing Matthew, took another sip of his wine. Shaking his head Azazel polished off the rest of his wine in one gulp. He shook his glass and Matthew refilled it. He knew that the two of them were in for a long day.

* * *

><p>"Alright," Kurt said, "You trust me, ja?"<p>

"Kurt…" said Amanda, looking down the mountain edge.

She couldn't see the bottom of the crevice. That might be a good thing, but Amanda didn't think so. The air was cold and the sky gray, making her wonder about all the snow at the bottom. It was a silly thought; no matter how much snow there was there wouldn't be enough to ensure a soft landing.

"You said you vanted to know vhat it vould be like to fly," he said reproachfully.

Amanda began to curse herself for expressing that. Although Kurt could teleport he had to take breaks so Amanda didn't choke from the sulphur. They had taken a ten minute break and she'd mentioned her wish as a flock of birds had flown overhead.

She'd just been talking to him to make conversation, to take her mind off the fact that she was in her final hour with him. Apparently he'd taken it seriously. As soon as she'd finished he'd brightly taken her to the edge of the mountain and explained what sounded like the scariest trust exercise she'd ever heard.

"I did," she said, "but um…falling is a little different."

"So you do not trust me?" asked Kurt, looking a little hurt.

She took a deep breath. This wasn't going the way she wanted to. And what could be the harm in it? It was scary, but it was delaying her destination.

"I trust you," she said, "More than anything."

His face lit up and Amanda smiled at him.

"So, you jump vhen I say," he said, "On drei."

Amanda took another deep breath and nodded. Slowly she began to tiptoe to the edge of the cliff, swallowing her fear.

"Eins…" he said.

Was this healthy? It couldn't be.

"…zvei…"

Oh God, the drop was a really big one. It wasn't too late to change her mind, was it?

"…drei!"

Starting forward she jumped off the edge. For a minute it felt like she was floating. Then she started plummeting down the cliff side and her stomach jumped into her mouth. Everything was being rearranged, from her toes to the way her blood flowed. Her hair twisted in the wind, the cold air combing it back. It was terrifying and thrilling all at once.

Suddenly there was a 'bamf' noise next to her. Kurt's arms wrapped around her waist and she felt him encircled around her. For a moment Amanda closed her eyes in tune with the feel of him against her. Then she found herself back at the top of the cliff, coughing against the sulphur.

"Vas zat not fun?" asked Kurt.

She smiled weakly and flopped back so that she was lying in the snow. Somehow being able to see the sky and feel the ground was very reassuring.

"It was great," she said, "Just do me a tiny favor?"

"Vhat ist zat?"

"Don't make me do it again."

He smiled at her and looked at the cliff edge fondly.

"Miene vatti used to play game vith me vonce I started teleporting vhere I vould jump off," he said, "und zen I vould teleport back up to top of cliff."

"How old were you when you started teleporting?" she asked.

"I vas zehn," explained Kurt.

"Ten?" Amanda exclaimed, "You were only ten?"

"Ja," he frowned, "I vas upset zat I could not do it vhen I vas younger, but miene vatti says zat it manifests later-"

"You were ten and jumping off cliffs?" she exclaimed, "How are you not scarred for life? It makes no sense!"

Kurt grinned at her and her stomach turned.

"It is good to do things zat scare you zometimes," he said, "Or ozzervise I vould be afraid of heights und afraid of vhat miene powers could do."

He flopped down next to her and grinned again.

"I guess that makes sense," she said, "You can't afford to be too afraid of trying things, even if they seem scary."

His gold eyes regarded her in a way that made her feel strange. One of his hands raised towards and then hesitated. Her breath caught in her throat and she watched, transfixed as his hand hovered near her cheek. She wanted to tilt her head towards him, feel his fingers on her skin.

Then he pulled away. Amanda watched him in disapointment before she felt something cold land on her face.

"Kurt?" she asked, "Is it just me or…is it snowing?"

Kurt blinked and looked up at the sky. As he did fat flakes began to fall down. Amanda sat up and looked with him.

"Verdammit," he said, getting to his feet, "Ze storm is starting again."

"What?" asked Amanda, doing the same.

"Normally ve haf more time betveen zem," he said, "Not zis time, for vhatever reason. Ve must go Amanda. Ve haf to try und make it to ze observatory."

He held out his hand and she grasped it tightly. In a second they were several yards away, smoke curling around them. She barely had time to blink before they teleported again. Amanda began coughing, inhaling the sulphur too rapidly when they touched down. Feeling like she was suffocating after five minutes of continous teleportation she pulled on his sleeve.

"Kurt," she managed, "we need to stop for a minute…"

The rapid teleportation stopped. Amanda sank down into the snow, coughing and gasping. Kurt sank down with her, one hand on her back.

"Amanda…are you alright?" he asked, worried,

"I'm fine," she said, feeling the snow gather rapidly in her hair, "I just…I just need a moment to…to…"

She trailed off into another coughing fit.

"Entschuldigung," he said, "I did not zink…ze storm…I vill not do it again."

"It's okay Kurt," said Amanda, "It really is."

Amanda reached out and gripped his hand just to show that she really meant it. He had only been trying to get her to where she'd wanted to go. There was nothing in it for him, and he was only trying to look out for her. Struggling to get more air into her lungs she forced a smile at him to prove that everything was okay. He smiled weakly back just as the air was filled with an earsplitting crack.

Together they looked up as a shadow fell over them. Amanda didn't know much about mountains or the dangers that they posed in bad weather. The only thing that she really knew was the danger of snow build-up and how, with certain disturbances, it could cause the snow to spill down the side in what was known as an avalanche. It was the only reason she knew what was happening.

Kurt's arms wrapped tightly around her. She clung to him and more sulphur filled the air. Halfway through the familiar sequence though she felt a shower of cold overtake them. Kurt let out a gasp and gripped her more tightly. Amanda's own grip was slipping and she struggled to maintain it. Against the overwhelming force of the snow it was hard to hold on though, and soon she felt herself pushed away in the tide.


	13. Chapter 13

Amanda opened her eyes. All around her white snowflakes swirled. She sat up and looked around at the smooth layer of snow all around her. Her cap was gone and she shivered in the cold air. Her body was sore and one of her legs was buried in the snow. With great difficulty, she got to her feet.

She looked around for Kurt and stood, puzzled, when she didn't see him. Suddenly then she remembered losing his hand, feeling him getting swept away by the current of snow. It was only then that the panic set in.

"Kurt!" she yelled, "Kurt!"

Not receiving any answer she stumbled through the snow. Her feet sank down every few inches but she continued pushing her way through. From what she could see, and it wasn't much, it had been a small avalanche. Somehow she'd been pushed to the top. However, she couldn't see any sign of Kurt and she knew that he wouldn't just leave her.

"Kurt!" Amanda yelled.

From somewhere to her left the snow began to shift weakly. Amanda scurried over and began digging down. Fairly soon she unearthed a three-fingered hand. Practically laughing she grasped it, just to let him know that she was there. Then she continued digging. From his end he was fighting too, only she could tell that he had been fighting for quite some time.

All around her the storm began growing worse. Amanda began to feel her teeth chatter involuntarily. Still struggling she managed to help him to where he could see. In a flash of smoke he was right beside her, although he fell to the ground soon after. She wedged her arms underneath him and pushed him so he was level with her.

His coat was soaked through, probably due to his exertions with the snow. His teeth were chattering even more rapidly than hers and she felt panicky.

"Kurt?" she said, "Please, say something. Come on!"

Blearily his golden eyes focused on her.

"Cabin…not zat far…" he murmured, "Emergencies…"

Her memory aided her. Kurt had told her that there were cabins scattered over the hills, stocked for travelers who would get lost in storms. One must be nearby.

"Okay," Amanda said, "Which direction?"

He jerked his head to the left. With great difficulty she got to her feet, dragging him with her. She put one of his arms over her shoulder and he shuffled next to her. Although the cabin couldn't have been very far Amanda felt like she was walking for days. Kurt's eyelids drooped and Amanda would have to scream at him to stay awake over the storm. She didn't have much experience with people suffering from exhaustion and the cold but she knew she couldn't allow him to fall asleep.

Kurt was obviously too weak to teleport, though with every step he seemed to sink further and further into exhaustion. Amanda struggled to support him. Her dancer's muscles were working overtime, plodding through the thick snow and supporting a muscular man two years her senior. She couldn't give up though and, in time, she saw the cabin.

Still struggling to balance him she turned the handle on the door and let herself in. With one last burst of strength she managed to get him through the door. He fell to the floor and she nearly collapsed herself. Amanda had a job to do though. Stumbling over to the door she shut it and locked it, breathing heavily but glad to be out of the wind.

Inside the cabin it was still chilly. First and foremost though she knew she had to do something about Kurt. She knelt down next to him.

"Kurt?" she asked.

He didn't answer. Amanda tried to wake him but he'd lost consciousness. Panic and fear began to rise inside her but she shoved it down. Now wasn't the time. However, he was still breathing. She just had to do something to keep him from catching hypothermia. His coat was soaked and almost frozen to his skin. With great care she pried it off, her fingers stiff. Kurt's sweater was soaked too and she had to take that off, leaving him his undershirt. His snow pants, unlike his jacket, had done their job and protected the thermals beneath them.

His socks hadn't fared well and she tore them off along with his boots. Then, her muscles aching in protest, she dragged him to the bed in the far wall. Tossing aside the blankets she pushed him in and covered him up to his chin. She thought about covering his head with the blanket too, but she didn't want anything impairing his breathing.

She wished she had her hat, but it was gone. Kurt's was wet, so it was probably a bad idea. She bunched up some blankets and put them around his head, trying to preserve some body heat for him. Amanda redirected her attention to the fire place and the generous supply of wood that had been laid by there. She began building a fire, opening the box of matches on the mantle.

The fire started up and Amanda soon felt its warmth in the room. She then turned her attention to herself. Her jacket was wet on the outside but not on the inside. Amanda shrugged it off and took off her gloves. She did the same with her snow pants and sweater, though her sweater was dry.

Carefully she laid her coat, inside facing down, on top of the blankets provided. She did the same thing with her sweater, trying to warm Kurt up as much as possible. His eyes still hadn't opened and she began to feel worry building up in her. He would be fine, he had to be.

Amanda went over to her backpack. She began pulling all sorts of things out of it and piling them up. However, she'd packed lightly when she left for Germany and didn't have much. Kurt was still shivering and she didn't know how much longer it would take for the fire to warm the entire room.

A vague memory of science class assailed her mind. Body heat, of course. Barely thinking about it she went under the covers and wrapped her arms around him. Amanda wasn't very warm herself, but it was the last thing she could think of doing. Tears came to her eyes and she held him to her tightly.

"Wake up," she whispered, half-begging and half-praying, "Please…please don't leave me."

* * *

><p>"I'd suggest you stay here for the night my friend," Matthew said, "The storm is getting worse out there."<p>

Azazel looked through the window, his tail swishing in agitation. A blizzard had blown up outside, making it difficult to see out the window. The wind screamed and rattled the pains. Even though he was standing a few feet away from it he could feel the cold seeping in through the cracks beneath the pain.

It was bad out there, as bad as it had been a few days ago when the previous storm had hit its stride. He knew that he wasn't going to be getting home that night. If he went out there then he wouldn't be able to see his hand in front of his face. There would be no teleporting for him for the next several hours, perhaps for the next several days.

However, it meant something else as well. It meant that wherever Kurt was he was trapped as well.

"My syn…" he murmured.

Matthew walked up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sure that he's safe," he said.

Azazel nodded absently. To himself he tried to rationalize how Kurt could be safe at home. The observatory was a quick trip, and surely he wouldn't want to stick around too long. Who would want to stay after saying goodbye? Perhaps he was already at home, mourning the girl he'd lost and wondering about his father. It was the best case scenario but the more he thought about it the more he saw that it didn't look particularly likely.

"He cannot be home," Azazel said.

"No, probably not," agreed Matthew, "But I'm sure that he and Amanda reached the observatory."

"Perhaps not," said Azazel, "I should go look for him."

He began to turn but Matthew gripped his shoulder.

"Azazel," Matthew said gently, "If you go out there then you are going to get lost and die. Then I'll have to answer to Kurt when he comes looking for you."

Struggling Azazel gave him a desperate look.

"Kurt is a good teleporter and it's not that far," reasoned Matthew, "And on top of that he's grown up in these mountains. The minute he saw a storm brewing he probably decided to stay with Brother Tobias. He'll be fine there."

One of his hands curled into a fist. He stared at the window, his fingernails digging into his palms and drawing blood.

"I will go to observatory as soon as storm goes away and check," he said.

"Yes, of course," Matthew said, "But I'm sure everything is fine."

He took one last look at the window.

"Da, I am sure everything is fine too," he said.

He only wished that he meant it.

* * *

><p>Hours later Amanda woke up. She couldn't believe that she'd fallen asleep, but she'd been exhausted. Immediately she checked Kurt. He wasn't awake but his teeth had stopped chattering. Amanda pushed the blanket she'd wrapped around his head so she could take his temperature. She felt his forehead and saw that his temperature was cool, but not freezing. He was still breathing regularly though so not too much could be wrong.<p>

Amanda flopped her head down on the pillow. The storm was still raging but the fire was burning strongly. The cabin was warmer now, pushing the cold away. Confidence built in her as she surveyed the small area. There was another room which she thought led to the bathroom, and a third which looked like a closet.

It wasn't much, but it was more than enough for the two of them. They could make it. She doubted that another storm would last a month, and from what Kurt had said to her the cabins were provisioned for five days. They would make it.

Her attention returned to Kurt. Almost absently she touched his cheek.

"Wake up," she whispered, "Please."

Her hand left his cheek and returned to her side, jostling him slightly in the process. To her surprise his eyes opened. Amanda felt her heart leap and she sat up. It hit her then, the panic she'd felt bringing him in, the gut wrenching fear that she'd lose him. She started crying, trying to push away her tears but too happy and relieved to do it properly.

"Amanda…?" Kurt asked blearily, sitting up, "Vhat ist vrong?"

"I was worried," she said, the tears still spilling down her face, "You wouldn't wake up and you were shivering…Kurt…I thought…"

Kurt took in their surroundings, how close they were to each other, the fire, and the way the snow was piling up outside. Under any other circumstances Amanda would have felt embarrassed at their proximity but she was too glad that he was alive to care. She watched as understanding of what had happened seeped into his expression. He gave a weak smile and touched the side of her face.

"I am here now," he said.

She looked up into his eyes and something inside her pushed her on. Amanda reached out, putting her hands behind his head. Barely thinking she pulled his face to hers, kissing him and running her tongue across his lips. Kurt's lips were like the rest of him, heavily textured and a bit rough. It was him though, and he was there in her arms. It felt like heaven, feeling him so close with his lips on hers.

Then her mind registered the fact that those lips weren't kissing her back. The importance of her actions came through then and her fears from when they'd left came crashing down around her. Slowly she removed her hands from behind his head and pulled away, looking down. Amanda couldn't meet his eyes, not after what had happened.

"I…I…I'm so-" she stammered.

A thick finger pressed against her lips.

"Nein."

Amanda looked up and saw the burning intensity in his eyes. Her stomach clenched almost painfully at the look.

"Never, never apologize," he said, "Not for this."

His words gave her courage to engulf his hand in hers, kissing his palm. His hand moved around her head and brought her lips to his again. This time his lips moved against hers, clumsily but with a barely restrained hunger. Kurt pulled away but his hands moved down hers, kneading the flesh of her arms. He leaned in again, this time pressing his lips against her neck, his fangs skimming the surface of her skin.

She moaned and leaned back. Beneath her head she felt the pillow and mattress, his weight reassuringly at her side. He followed her and her hands moved up his back, holding him to her. Amanda felt his motions stiffen suddenly she let go, looking at him, feeling both anxious and calm at the same time.

He looked at her again, his eyes full of a desperate pleading.

"Amanda…you need to…must know," he said, "I love you."

Her heart turned and she felt more tears slip from her eyes.

"I have nefer loved anyvone before," said Kurt, "And…and I…vhat I vant…Amanda…I vant to say-"

Slowly she put her hands on either side of his face, looking up at him.

"And I think that you need to understand," Amanda said, "is that I've never wanted all of someone like I want you. I've never wanted someone's silence more than anyone else's words. And when I say never, I mean it."

She smiled, pushing her body up so she could kiss him lightly on the cheek.

"I love you Kurt. More than anyone."

His eyes widened at the admission and his lips descended on hers again. Amanda leaned backwards as his lips moved with hers. He pulled away and she felt his breath against her ear as he spoke, his words thick with emotion.

"Ich liebe dich von ganzem herzen," he breathed.

Kurt's hands skimmed against her sides. It felt like fire was shooting through her. Her hands made their way to his shirt, her fingers fumbling with the buttons. She was venturing into the unknown, they both were. Even so she pushed the shirt off, smiling slightly when she heard his breath hiss from behind his teeth.

"Ty moyo solnyshko," he said.

Amanda didn't pretend to know what he meant. The words were unfamiliar to her, both in German and in Russian. She wasn't proficient enough in German and she only understand a few words in Russian. However, the tone was very familiar to her. And it was the tone, not the words, which she carried with her into the night.


	14. Chapter 14

Kurt was suffocating in a mountain of snow. The cold stabbed into him, taking away his breath and sliding down the back of his jacket. He kicked his way through, struggling and trying not to give in, to teleport where he couldn't see, where something bad would happen. The fear clawed at him as he held onto a hand more tightly than he'd ever held onto anything before.

_"Syn, we do not look others. I know you know this. People at monastery are not like rest of world. It is safe if we stay here, but it excludes us in way. Things like love…they are difficult for most people. For us, harder. I do not want to give illusions that we can live and love like others. We cannot Kurt."_

He couldn't give in. His grip tightened as he thought about two green-blue eyes staring at him. He couldn't lose her, not like this. He would see her off because he had to, but he couldn't let her die. Even as his determination doubled he felt her hand beginning to fall from his grasp before it slipped away.

_"We cannot Kurt."_

He reached out for her, screaming, but the snow filled his mouth and he felt the prssure barrel down on him. His head swam and the darkness pushed down on him harder and harder. He gave one more startled gasp as his world begin to fade.

_"And I think that you need to understand is that I've never wanted all of someone like I want you. I've never wanted someone's silence more than anyone else's words. And when I say never, I mean it."_

Light and warmth flooded him. He reached out and felt her hand twine with his, clencing it tightly. Her hair brushed against his cheek and he felt her soft lips moving against his, breathing life into him and banishing the cold.

_"I love you Kurt. More than anyone."_

* * *

><p>He woke with a start, trying to quiet his breathing. When he calmed down he turned his head to the side. Amanda lay next to him, her hair spread out in a golden cloud around her. He shifted so he was lying on his side. One of his hands stroked her hair, something he'd been longing to do for a long time. Three fingers weren't thin or nimble enough to have hair flow through them like five, but it was enough that he could feel it.<p>

She sighed in her sleep and he froze. He hadn't wanted to wake her up. After everything that had happened she must have been exhausted. However, she remained asleep and, as luck would have it, lying on top of his arm. He smiled once before brushing some of her hair away from her face.

If anyone had told him that his day would end with the woman he loved lying next to them he'd probably have become enraged. He'd believed that she was leaving him and he knew that he'd never see her again. Then her lips had met his and he'd known that he was never going to be able to let her go without telling her how he felt, no matter what the consequences.

Ever since he'd turned ten he'd been under the impression that love wasn't something he'd be able to have. His father's words had hurt, but he'd understood that Azazel was speaking from pain and experience. When Amanda had come into his life he'd started to regret that knowledge, wishing that he could go on in naivety. At least then he could have had some illusion of what loving unencumbered was like.

However, he'd decided to keep his silence on the subject. She didn't deserve to have his feelings forced on her. Amanda had been a good friend, a wonderful woman that he was better for meeting. It wouldn't be right to burden her with the knowledge of a love that she would never be able to return.

He'd believed that being loved in return was more than he could hope for. It was out of bounds. And if just the emotion was out of bounds, how much more was the physical expression of it? As it and love were intertwined, at least in the best cases that he was aware of, he knew that it too wasn't something he was supposed to have.

His ideas had been shattered in a short amount of time. He closed his eyes as he remembered the way she whispered his name across his skin, letting him know what she felt even in murmurs. Amanda had turned his world upside down. She was a miracle in his eyes, a woman who understood him like nothing he was used to. He'd saved her life that day by the road and, in turn, she'd saved him.

Kurt smiled and laid a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"Bright crown of life," he whispered, "turbulent bliss, love, thou art this."

She snuggled deeper into his side and he sighed in contentment. He could have stayed there for days. However, the chill on his back alerted him that the fire was dying. Gently he untangled himself from her. He managed to do so without waking her up and got up. Pulling on a pair of pants he went over to the fireplace and restocked it. The storm was still going outside and there was practicality to think of.

He lit a match and gently placed it in the wood. He sat back and watched the wood burn for a minute. The flames leapt higher and higher and he smiled to himself. Kurt knew what they were feeling. It felt like that inside his heart, the first rays of a brilliant light that was consuming everything.

Smiling to himself he looked at the small clock in the cabin. He was surprised that it was past five in the morning, the day after he had begun their journey to the monastery. His stomach rumbled in agreement with the clock though. Shaking his head he went through the food supplies available to them.

* * *

><p>When Amanda woke up her head felt a little groggy. She rubbed her eyes and put her hand out to where she expected Kurt would be. When her hand hit empty space she opened her eyes fully and looked over. She saw Kurt's form crouched by the fireplace, possibly cooking something.<p>

Smiling she wrapped one of the sheets around herself and walked over. Amanda kneeled beside him and put a hand on his arm. He turned his head and looked at her, surprised. His surprise soon softened, his face growing warm. Kurt leaned over and kissed her lightly before pulling away.

"Gut morning liebling," he grinned.

Amanda looked out the window. It was still dark and the snow was still pounding against the cabin.

"It's morning?" she asked.

"Ja," said Kurt, "Zat ist vhy I left…um…you know…"

He blushed. Despite everything Amanda felt heat enter her cheeks too. Giving a nervous smile he turned back to her.

"To um, make breakfast. In case you are hungry or somezing."

Nodding she positioned herself so she was more comfortable. He grinned and took something that she supposed was oatmeal off the fireplace. He put some into a bowl and gave her a nervous smile before turning to his own portion. Amanda began to eat, the warm food doing a good deal towards taking away the chill of the morning.

"Didn't know these places stocked oatmeal," she said, keeping her voice light.

He shrugged his shoulders. Amanda's mind wandered to when her hands had been sliding over his shoulders just a few hours previously, hearing his endearments in her ears. Her face grew hot and she looked away, seeing him only out of the corner of her eye. Luckily he was looking away.

"Zey stock a lot of zings," said Kurt, "Miene vatti und I come here sometimes to resupply und make sure zey are not falling apart. Ze monks had good ideas vhen zey built zem."

"You can say that again," she said.

She finished and pushed the bowl away. Kurt had evidently finished his meal too from the noises that his spoon made when it was dropped into his bowl. Amanda looked over her shoulder at him and he put his arms around her. Sighing she leaned back into his touch and he buried his face in her hair.

"I meant vhat I said last night," he said.

"I know," Amanda replied, "I meant it to."

"I am so happy to hear zat," Kurt said, "Und here I vas, zinking zat I vas going to let you go vithout efer saying anyzing."

With an alarming speed Amanda was thrown out of the comfortable illusion she'd gloried in since she woke up. Amanda bit her lip.

"Kurt I…how…"

"Liebling?" he asked.

Amanda bit into her lip further.

"It's just…what would you say we are now?" asked Amanda, "I don't think…we're not friends…"

"You're ze voman I love. I know no ozzer vay to zink of you," Kurt said, his voice confident, "I suppose zat zere are vords to describe zat, like boyfriend und girlfriend or somzeing, but it does not seem right for us."

"No," agreed Amanda, her voice lowering, "It doesn't. It's why I asked."

"Lover sounds eiene little vrong," said Kurt, "Sounds emphasized, as if people are not sure zat ze ozzer really loves them."

She nodded. She'd stopped biting her lip but tears were starting to well in her eyes.

"But ve are sure, ja?" said Kurt.

"Yes," she managed.

"So ve do not need to constantly-"

Unbidden a sob came to her throat. She couldn't restrain it and, since she knew he'd heard it, she just kept crying. There was no point in hiding.

"Liebling?" asked Kurt, turning her in his arms so she could face him, "Vhat ist vrong?"

She breathed in, hugging her arms around herself.

"Kurt, what are we going to do?" she asked miserably.

"I…I don't know vhat you mean," he said, looking generally confused, "Vhat are ve going to do about vhat?"

"About us," Amanda whispered, trying to force away the tears, "Kurt, whether you like it or not the only reason we're here at all was because I was leaving you. You know that I can't stay here. I have people who are waiting for me…"

Her voice caught and she saw the hurt on his face. It hurt all the more to know that he was feeling what she was, and that she'd been the one to inflict that on him.

"I'm not old enough to go off on my own. They're my guardians. They're probably already worried right now," Amanda said, "And we both know you can't go with me. Even if you did make it to the circus then what? They might accept you but then what? They'd probably have to tell people you're wearing a costume and I know living like that after being so free would **kill **you. And you'd never leave your father."

"Liebling…" Kurt said, looking lost, "vhat are you saying?"

"I'm saying I don't know what we're going to do," she said, "I don't know Kurt…I just don't know what we're supposed to do if we want to stay together…when we didn't say anything, didn't hold each other, then we could ignore it, but now…"

Amanda trailed off miserably, wiping away her tears with her hands. She didn't know what else she should say. Slowly she felt Kurt's arms leave her. She looked up at him, the tears blurring her vision slightly. His golden eyes looked down at her in a mixture of despair and betrayal.

It was then that she knew she should have phrased her words better, but it was too late. The damage had been done.

"You regret last night, vhat ve did?" he asked quietly, "Vhat you said?"

* * *

><p>His heart lay in broken pieces around him as he stared at her, trying to keep from letting out what he was feeling. Just minutes ago he'd felt like he couldn't possibly be any happier, and then she had told him the realities of their situation. As if that wasn't enough she'd said the last words on earth he'd wanted to hear.<p>

Kurt felt like he was sinking somewhere far off and desolate. Had his father been right? Had anything he'd thought about been an illusion? Maybe the only realities were that he should have kept to himself, minding his own business. He closed his eyes and turned away.

"No!" Amanda said, putting her hands on either side of his face and turning him back so he faced her, "Of course I don't. I love you and-"

Struggling with himself he encircled her wrists and pulled her hands off.

"Zhen vhat are you saing?" he interrupted, fighting his own sense of despair.

"I'm just-"

"Zat you are going to go avay und leaf forever?"

"Kurt, I don't think I have a choice," Amanda sobbed.

Her head was turned away and he wanted to brush away her tears, but he was feeling too much. Despair made his voice harsh but he couldn't hold it back. He gripped her wrists tightly, feeling his own failure and self-loathing come to the surface.

"After vhat ve did you can just do zat?" he asked.

"No!" Amanda protested, looking up sharply, "I can't do that Kurt. I can't just go home and pretend like this never happened, like I never fell in love. You think I'm capable of that? Do you?"

Her words and expression were fierce. Kurt bowed his head.

"Nein…"

"You're damn right," said Amanda, "You're damn right that I can't do that."

He let go of her wrists and bowed his head against the myriad of emotions he was feeling.

"Entschuldigung," he murmured.

Her expression softened.

"It's okay, it's okay," Amanda said.

Her arms wrapped around his neck and she moved herself closer so that she was flush up against him. He took the cue to wrap his arms around her and pull her to him. She laid her head in the crook of his neck and sighed.

_"Love can be very painful…if not returned. Even when returned it is sometimes not enough. People can be torn apart by things, even if it is not their fault. It can hurt Kurt. It can hurt very much."_

"But vhat do ve do?" Kurt said, "I can no more let you go zhen I can stop breazing."

"I know," said Amanda, "I can't...I don't..."

There was silence for a while and he clutched her so that he could feel the rise and fall of her chest in rhythm with his. He might never be able to do it again.

"I'm going to leave Kurt," said Amanda, "We can't change that."

He nodded silently. The words 'turbulent bliss' were suddenly not enough, not anymore.

"But what we can change is what happens after," Amanda said, "I'm not going to lose you. Once I'm eighteen I'm coming back and I'm coming back to stay."

His head shot up.

"You cannot mean zat."

"Why not?" demanded Amanda, "We both know that I need to go. But I'm going to come back, and when I do I won't leave again. And that's the solution Kurt. You can't be part of my world without risking everything. So I'll be part of yours."

"But you vould haf to gif up everyzing," he despaired, "Ve are so young, how can you be sure zat zis is vhat you vant?"

Amanda shifted so he could see her face.

"Giving up implies that you're not getting something worthwhile in return," she smiled, "So it doesn't apply. And for how young I am…being young doesn't make what we feel any less real. I love you, and that's not going to change."


	15. Chapter 15

Amanda's boots pounded on the stone floor of the observatory, leaving small puddles behind her. A monk walked next to her, looking amazed.

"I'm relieved that you found one of the cabins for that last storm," he said, "I didn't know there were any that far down where your car crashed."

She nodded back to him. Kurt's German lessons had tuned her ear to the point where she could understand most of what he was saying. Her heart twisted painfully when she thought of him. It had been three days since her declaration to him that, though she would leave, she was going to come back.

Amanda could see the pain in his eyes during thier time together, forgotten only during brief moments. Still, he had resolved to love and trust her, more than she could have asked for given thier circumstances. She understood that that wouldn't be easy. Kurt had told her, after much coaxing, what his father had told him as a child about love and how it did, or in this case didn't, have anything to do with their lives.

It sounded cruel and Amanda had been on the verge of calling it such before she reconsidered. Kurt didn't know what had happened to his mother and Azazel had been outside the mountains while Kurt hadn't. She wondered what kind of prejudice he had faced, what kind of prejudice her love would face if he ever left the safe confines of the mountains.

So she had said nothing about his father's words and told him that she loved him, that she was really coming back to him. Amanda had stayed close by him, trying not to focus too much on the negative and instead give him more memories to reassure him in the coming days. They would both need it.

The only time she'd brought up her imminent departure was the inquiry if there was any way to get in touch with him once she'd gone. He'd given her Brother Matthew's address at the monastery, telling her to put cross hatches in the four corners of the envelope. She'd promised him to write every week, another part of her plan to keep the two of them close. He'd just nodded and kissed her forehead before drawing her to him.

When the storm had cleared he'd teleported her the rest of the way to the observatory. Before going into eyeshot of the building she'd stopped and taken his face in her gloved hands. Slowly she'd tried to memorize his features before leaning forwards and kissing him deeply. He'd clutched her to him tightly and for a moment she thought he was going to teleport her back to his house. For a moment she half-hoped that he would.

"I'm coming back," she said.

"I know," he replied.

Amanda had kissed him again and started walking towards the observatory. She knew that Kurt was watching her go up to the building but she couldn't look back. If someone saw her looking back they might wonder and she wasn't going to let her final moments near him put Kurt in danger.

There was another reason though, one that she hated. Amanda couldn't look back or she'd never leave. She had to move forward if she was going to get back to him in a few months. It was why she kept her face carefully controlled as the monk talked about getting her back to Munich, helping make arrangements.

"We called a crew up here," he said kindly, "They should be here very soon; they have excellent response time. In the meantime, would you like to rest in the study? There is another man there, a visitor to us, but you should not be bothered. He is a scholar, very quiet. Sort of strange for the observatory."

_ "It must be given to a man who healed flesh, but now heals the fabric of our realm. Watch for the strange man there."_

The monk laughed at his little joke and Amanda stiffened. She shifted her backpack and smiled at the monk. At least she knew what to do here.

"That will be fine, thank you," she said.

He opened a door for her and she walked in, head held high. Swallowing she took a few steps forward. Amanda could see the man in question at a table far from her. Feeling strangely composed she approached the table. The man didn't look up at her and she sat down at the table opposite from him, putting her backpack in her lap. Then she stared quietly, waiting for him to look up.

After a few minutes the man looked up. Amanda thought that he couldn't be very old, although his face looked like it had seen quite a few things. A beard encircled his chin and he sat hunched in a deep red coat with a high color. As his eyebrows narrowed slightly she noticed two white streaks of hair on either side of his head. Curious.

"Is something the matter miss?" he asked.

"Not really I guess," Amanda said, unzipping her backpack, "I think I have something for you is all."

"I shouldn't think so," he frowned, his eyebrows returning to their normal position, "No one knows I'm here. I just knew a few hours ago; there's a rare book here that I've been tracking for quite some time you see."

Amanda nodded.

"I think my mother knew that you're here, or at least somehow knew you would be," she replied, "She could be like that sometimes."

His eyebrows raised and he slowly closed the book.

"I'm almost afraid to ask this," he said, his voice low, "but who exactly was your mother?"

"If you answer my question, I'll answer yours," she said.

She was surprised how calm she was being about the situation. Amanda was fulfilling one of her mother's final requests. This was the real reason why she'd trekked up the mountain in the first place. However, it wasn't the reason she was coming back and it definitely wasn't reason she didn't want to go. She'd gone through so much emotional turmoil in the past few days she wondered if perhaps she was numb now.

"And what is your question?" he asked.

"Were you…some sort of healer once?" asked Amanda, "I don't know, a doctor or something like that?"

The man's spine stiffened and Amanda knew that she was right.

"I was a surgeon," he said, "Once. Not anymore. There was…an accident. What does that have to do with this?"

"Everything," she said.

There was a pause where she began to rummage in her backpack for the black box. Her hand gripped it and she looked up.

"And my mother was Margali Sefton," Amanda said.

"Was?" he asked.

"She died a few months ago," Amanda said, "It's why I'm here really."

She saw his eyebrows raise even higher in a mixture of curiosity and sympathy. For a moment she felt the familiar stab of pain when she mentioned her mother's name, but only for a minute. Amanda had to keep moving and not just away from the mountains. There was so much that had happened after all.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Amanda shook her head, keeping her grip firmly on the box. One of his hands went underneath his chin, propping it up in thought.

"Your mother," he said, "If you don't mind me asking, was her maiden name Szardos by any chance?"

"Yes," replied Amanda, "Did you know her?"

The man hesitated as though weighing his words.

"I knew of Margali Szardos. I had heard of her I mean," he said, "But I was never formally introduced."

Amanda nodded and looked down at the black box in her hand. She wasn't sure why her mother had wanted her to give it to the man in front of her. She'd been an excellent fortune teller, what else had she been able to see? Was this why her instructions had been so vague, so hurried before she died?

Truthfully Amanda didn't want to know the why or the how. This wasn't her world and she was feeling far too much at the moment to think too deeply about this. Amanda had known that the moment she looked through the pendant. Her mother had told her once that it wasn't meant for her, and perhaps she was right. She'd loved her mother and, if there was something about her life she didn't want her daughter to know, well, that was her own business. It wasn't the time to pry.

In that moment Amanda was just supposed to be a girl coming to fulfill her mother's dying wish. It was all she wanted to be.

"She wanted you to have this," Amanda said, withdrawing the box.

She placed it on the table. The man looked at it, his brow furrowed.

"What is it?" he asked.

"You know, I'm not sure," Amanda said simply, "But for some reason I think you'll understand what it is much better than I would."

She got a strange look from the man and he opened the box. His eyes widened and he took the eye pendant out gingerly, almost as though it were a sacred object.

"She…she wanted **me **to have **this**?" he asked breathlessly.

Amanda nodded.

"She told me to come to the observatory and look for someone matching a rather enigmatic description to give the box to."

Amanda smiled sadly before resuming.

"She said that 'It must be given to a man who healed flesh, but now heals the fabric of our realm'," she quoted, "'Watch for the strange man there.'"

He closed his fist closed over the pendant.

"It's why I asked if you were a doctor," Amanda said, "And a monk made this joke…never mind. I don't know what the rest means, and I don't think that I'm supposed to."

"But, you have no idea what this is-" he started.

Amanda shook her head and leaned in.

"You're right," she said, "I don't. But I looked through that, so I know what it's capable of. And what I saw let me know that this thing is not normal. My mother wanted me to give it to you though, not to keep it. So she must have had a reason for you to own it, whatever it was. And I trust her."

The man lifted his head, a certain glint in his eye. Amanda swallowed and zipped up her backpack. She fiddled with the zipper for a minute more before she decided to disclose something else. Amanda didn't know if it was relevant, but since this man was the pendant's new owner he might as well know.

"I'm not sure if this makes any difference to you," she said, "But my brother told me that he had a buyer for it in Latveria."

Panic crossed over his face before it sank into a look of calm. It was obvious he was keeping something from her and trying to hide his momentarily lapse. Somehow Amanda knew that, again, it wasn't something she was supposed to know. It was better if she just continued on her current track.

"I thought that it might," said Amanda.

The door opened and the monk came in. He stopped briefly at the sight of the two of them and Amanda inclined her head towards him.

"We have a car miss," he said.

She nodded and got up as he disappeared out the doorway. Nodding once to the man she slung her backpack over her shoulder. Just before she followed him the man called;

"I didn't get your name."

Amanda stopped and tilted her head.

"Amanda Sefton," she said, "and you?"

"Dr. Stephan Strange," he said.

That made her mother's last comment make quite a bit of sense.

"Well then, Dr. Strange," Amanda said, "I hope you make good use of whatever that is."

"I will," he said.

He had the air of someone making a holy vow. She smiled.

"I know," she said, "Otherwise my mother wouldn't have decided you should have it."

Amanda tilted her head again, somewhat in goodbye and somewhat in acknowledgement, before leaving the library. Her backpack felt lighter now that the black box was no longer in it and she smiled to herself. As she walked she wondered about the doctor's timing. If she'd arrived when she'd originally thought than she would have missed him entirely.

Vaguely she wondered if her mother had known that she would be delayed and thus meet him on the correct date. She must have, somehow. Maybe the pendant had told her. Had she somehow known that she'd meet Kurt too? Amanda found it unlikely, but then again she would have considered Kurt and his father unlikely if she hadn't met them.

Amanda liked to consider herself a relatively practical person. She didn't believe in faeries, unicorns, or that crossing paths with black cats was bad luck. However, she was getting a niggling feeling that perhaps she should believe in some sort of destiny, some sort of fate. Perhaps it wasn't absolute, but she got the feeling that it was there.

Smiling to herself she stepped out into the crisp white snow of a courtyard. True to the monk's word a recovery van was there and Amanda took a step towards them. No one was looking at her though; the workers were discussing something with the monk. So she felt it was safe to stop halfway there.

Her eyes gazed towards the woods. She knew that Kurt was there, watching her and trying to make sure that she was getting home safe. It warmed her even in the freezing weather. Then, because she knew that he could see it even if anyone else couldn't, she gently pressed her hand to her lips. Then she flattened her palm, hoping that he'd catch the gesture even if he didn't catch the kiss.

"Hey, miss?"

Amanda turned as one of the workers addressed her.

"Ready to go?" he asked.

Her heart turned painfully and she breathed out a lie.

"Yes." 

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN:_**_ For those of you who aren't familiar with Dr. Strange, he's the Sorcerer Supreme of the Marvel Universe, at least he was until a few recent issues. Amanda and her mother, in the comcis at least, trafficked quite a bit with him. They were even featured in a few of his storylines, just like he was linked with them and the X-men on occasion._

_The object Amanda gave Dr. Strange was the all-seeing Eye of Agamotto. He wears as a sort of broach on his cape, and it's saved his life more than once. It made its most recent appearence in Odin's treasure room in Thor alongside the Casket of Ancient Winters. It's kind of funny all the stuff that ended up in there. _

_The 'buyer in Latveria' is Dr. Strange's enemy and occasional ally Dr. Doom. It's pretty good that Amanda decided to follow her mother's wishes instead of her brother's._


	16. Chapter 16

"Kurt?"

Kurt looked up to see his father standing behind him. Azazel wore an expression of relief on his face as he strode towards him. Hastily Kurt tried to pick up the pieces of his heart and pretend, at least for the moment, that nothing was wrong. He gave his father a weak grin before looking back at the monastery which, at any moment, Amanda was going to walk out of.

"I was worried with storm. Thought maybe you were not safe," he said, "but Matthew said you would make it, and you did."

"Ve didn't," Kurt said, "But ve got to eine cabin, so it vas alright."

"You are safe," shrugged Azazel, leaning against a tree, "And that is all that matters. The where and why are not important."

Nodding Kurt rested his arms over his knees to become more comfortable in their normal, crouched position.

"Is Amanda inside?" asked Azazel.

"Ja," Kurt replied, swallowing hard.

"That is good. Hope business goes well," said Azazel, detaching himself from the tree, "Come."

Kurt shook his head.

"Nein, I must know zat she leafes safely," he said.

He could practically hear his father's frown.

"Kurt…she is in observatory. Of course she will be safe. Sometimes I think this is safest place in world."

"I know zat. But I haf to know vatti, haf to know und not guess," Kurt said sharply, "I haf to see…"

Azazel sighed. He sat down next to Kurt and put a hand on his son's shoulder.

"I know that you…care about her," he said.

Kurt looked away. His father was wrong. He didn't care about her. He was in love with her. There was a world of difference. His fists clenched.

"And I know what is happening is hard," said Azazel, his voice low and caring, "but sometimes it is best to let go, da?"

He didn't reply. A firey pressure was building up in his chest, a pressure that he was having difficulty controlling.

"Kurt, sometimes I think it is good to dream," Azazel continued, "As long as know it is dream, not real."

The pressure gathered behind his eyes, stabbing him painfully. He couldn't take this lecture from his father. All he wanted him to do was stop talking, but he kept going like it was something Kurt hadn't known before. Worse, he kept going like it was supposed to comfort him somehow. How could he think that?

"You are young; this is difficult," Azazel said, "And I know it makes you angry. But let go. In time you will see it is better."

Kurt opened his mouth but his father shook his head. His father's reluctance to let him speak made the pressure build painfully.

"The frustration of young," sighed Azazel, "I understand-"

"Nein!" Kurt snapped, glaring at him, "You do not know! You do not understand!"

His father started and blinked at him, his eyes growing wide before narrowing. Kurt felt him scan his face and Azazel gave a sigh of despair.

"Oh Kurt," he said, "What did you do?"

"I told her I loved her. Ve vere in ze cabin und I told her I loved her," Kurt said, his voice defensive, "It is not a crime vatti."

"For our kind it is considered so," Azazel said, shaking his head, "Kurt, our kind cannot afford to-"

"Our kind?" snapped Kurt, "You spent whole life saying zat ja, ve vere different, but not really. Zat zere vas nozing vrong vith us. Now ve are different kind?"

"Kurt, you knew what I meant," Azazel said sharply.

"Do I?" Kurt said, "Haf I efer vatti? Haf I efer really understood?"

He shook his head.

"Nein, or I vould not haf done this," he said, "und I vould not be feeling vhat I am feeling now. Und vhy should I understand? You haf nefer gifen me reason to!"

A fist formed and he struck a tree next to him. The words were spilling out now, hot and painful, frustrated over his situation, and the helplessness he felt.

"Alvays do zis do not do zat because ve are **different**!" snorted Kurt, "Nozing else. Some do not efen make sense. Vhy should I haf not loved her? Vhy should I haf not told her? Vhy should I not rejoice if zese feelings are returned?"

Tears were threatening now and Kurt looked away again. He had to calm down and explain things in a reasonable tone. Right now it just looked like he was throwing a tantrum. He had to make his father understand that he'd been wrong. Maybe other people would turn away from them because of their appearance, but not Amanda. He swallowed and took a deep breath. It was time to tell him.

"Vatti," he said, "Vhen I told her how I felt, she said she loved me as vell."

Next to him his father started. Kurt whipped his head up, his tenuous control broken.

"Vhat?" he demanded, "Is it so unebelievable that somevone vould lof me?"

"I did not say that!" protested Azazel.

Kurt threw his hands up into the air and got to his feet.

"But it is true, is it not? Zat is vhat you are thinking," Kurt asked, "Vatti, I know zat by eferyzing you haf taught me it ist unbelievable. So zat ist vone zing you vere vrong about; it ist not impossible for me to be loved!"

His face contorted Azazel got to his feet.

"Syn," he said, his jaw clenched, "You have seen nothing of life besides mountains. That is why you do not-"

"Whose fault ist zat vatti?" Kurt said bitterly, "Whose fault is it zat I haf never been outside zis place?"

"I did that for own good!" snapped Azazel, "I sacrificed everything to keep away from where they would hurt you! And so we stay here because it is safe!"

"Vhen did I decide to nefer leave?" Kurt demanded, "Vhen did I decide to spend miene entire life here? Vatti, I nefer decided that!"

Shock registered on his father's face. Kurt sighed, feeling frustrated, miserable, and lovesick. He glanced over at the monastery. She wasn't out yet but he resolved that, despite everything that was going on, he needed to keep an eye on it. He wasn't going to miss her in favor of yelling at his father.

"Vatti, I appreciate vhat you did for me," said Kurt, "But I am not child. I am able to protect self. You taught me. You know."

"But not so you could risk life needlessly!" Azazel hissed.

"I am not planning on risking life needlessly," replied Kurt, his voice bitter, "Vatti, vhen I vas younger I zought zat vone day I vould leaf zese mountains. Zis vorld ist made up of miracles und I haf seen so little of it. I vanted to find eiene miracle zat I had nefer found, never even dreamt of. Somezing beyond vhat I knew. Und I zought zat I vould haf to leaf mountains to find it."

He let a smile soften his features.

"But vatti, I did not," he said, "I found Amanda, und she not only accepted me but lofed me. She showed me so much. She ist ze miracle I sought. Und I did not haf to leaf, und I am not asking to. I haf already found her."

There was a long pause and Azazel gave his son a hard look.

"Kurt…" his father said, almost as though he were trying to test his words, "Did anything else happen in that cabin?"

Kurt felt a flash of annoyance run through him. Out of everything that he had said his father decided to ask that?

"Vatti, zat ist not important."

"What happened?" asked Azazel, his eyes narrowing.

For a minute Kurt stared at him, feeling a little trapped. It was like he was a child again, a child who'd done something wrong and now had to confess it. It was always like his father could read his mind, even when he knew that there was no way he could know if he'd done something. How was it that his father knew him so well?

Then again, what did he have to be ashamed of? What had he done? He'd been with the woman he loved. He stood up straighter.

"Ve didn't just use vords," he said, tilting his head up, "Vhen I said I lofed her, und she said it back, ve vere togezer."

His father gaped at him before shaking his head.

"Oh Kurt," Azazel said, "This…you have made this worse Kurt. You have made it worse."

"Made vhat vorse?" demanded Kurt.

Azazel shook his head.

"To start with, just to start, she is leaving," Azazel said, "She will go; you knew this."

"Ja, I knew this," snapped Kurt, "Vhat of it?"

"Well she is obviously still going," Azazel shot back.

"Ja, vhich is vhy I am here in first place vone could say," Kurt said dryly, "I knew zis. But I also know zat for drei days I vas ze most happy man in ze vorld, efen if it vas temporary. Und I knew it made her happy as vell-"

"How do you know that?" asked Azazel, "She is leaving, so it could not have meant that much."

Kurt's eyes narrowed, remembering his own argument with Amanda a few days before.

"She had to leafe," Kurt said, "She said zat she had people vaiting for her…zat she vould haf to vait until she vas eighteen in a few months und zen she vould come back. She said zat she vould vrite to me efery veek vhen she vas gone."

Azazel snorted. Kurt clenched his hands into fists and his father leaned back against a tree.

"Syn," Azazel said, "She will not come."

"You do not know zat!"

"I do, because I think," Azazel said, pounding a finger against his temple, "She would have to give up everything to come here. Possible she means what she says now, when you are here and she feels it. But when she is gone, with friends, with world she knows, she will forget about you. And that is truth."

Kurt's teeth clenched painfully together. He wondered if Azazel was even hearing his words, was making any headway. His father was looking at him like some wayward child that needed to be put back on the correct path. He wasn't a child anymore though.

"Nein vatti. Zis ist not some transitory **fling**, zis ist real. I zink zat real love tries. Und she is willing to try," he replied, "She says I vill go, but vrite, and then I vill come back. I beliefe zat letters vill come, and zat she vill not be far behind them. She vill not forget me."

He glared at his father defiantly.

"Her love is, I beliefe, real," he said, "Und real love is not just for now, not just tomorrow. It is in for ze long haul. She vill vrite, und I vill haf to vrite back, und believe zat she will return. Zat ist how I vill try for her, I vill beliefe. I love her enough to beliefe."

The two of them glared at each other in silence. Then, over his father's shoulder, Kurt saw a flash of gold hair. He immediately craned his neck to see her, his eyes fixed and helpless. He watched as Amanda stepped further out into the courtyard next to a recovery van. The workers were arguing with a monk over something, none of them looking at her. She stopped halfway to the van and turned to face the woods.

Her eyes gazed towards the woods and Kurt knew that she was looking for him. She wouldn't find him, but the gesture made his heart leap. Slowly she gently pressed her hand to her lips. Then she flattened her palm. Kurt sighed deeply and smiled, the first time he'd done it since his father had arrived.

"Balvan," his father muttered.

Kurt watched Amanda walk to the recovery van, getting in with a final glance behind her. It seemed like an eternity before the door closed and she was blocked from sight. The car started up and drove away. When she was gone he turned back to his father.

"She will only hurt you," said Azazel.

"Vatti?" Kurt said.

"Da?"

"I vould appreciate it if you vould zatk`nis," Kurt snapped.

His father's eyebrows shot up.

"She ist ze voman I love und I vill not haf you saying zat about her," Kurt finished.

Azazel threw his head back and laughed bitterly.

"What would you know about it?" Azazel said, "What on earth would you know what it is like to be in love?"

"I know vhat it is like," said Kurt stiffly, "I am in it now. Und I know zat zings like love…zey are difficult for most people. For us, harder. After all, I do not vant to gife illusions zat ve can live und love like others."

A look of anger flashed across his father's face as Kurt spat his words back to him.

"But ve can vatti," he said, "Ve can. Vonce upon a time you loved miene mutter, und for vhatever reason you vill not talk about her. But you know zat ve can be loved in return. It is not off limits. It ist somezing I can haf now zat I am older, und now I haf it."

He gave his father a final glare.

"I am going home vatti," he said, "Vhen you are villing to talk like I am not child, zen I vill listen."

With a flick of his tail he teleported in the direction of their house.


	17. Chapter 17

Over the next few days Azazel struggled with his own emotions. He had never been at odds with his son for so long, and never over something as serious as this. Kurt had kept to his word about being unwilling to talk about it if his concerns weren't immediately dismissed. Azazel found himself getting into an increasingly large amount of fights with his son as time went by.

The day that Amanda had sent her first letter was the worst day of all. Kurt had found the letter when he'd visited Matthew earlier in the day. Kurt had run to his favorite climbing tree as a child and vaulted up it. He'd all but torn the envelope open and began reading eagerly. Azazel watched as his son's face changed in exultation.

As soon as he walked into the house the smile was wiped off Kurt's face. It was as though the house itself was an anathema to his good mood, destroying it. He gave only a short nod to his father before going upstairs. Feeling bitter at this new change in his son Azazel hadn't been able to stop himself before he said;

"Foolishness."

Kurt had rounded on him on the staircase. The two of them had then engaged in a shouting match that was probably heard by everyone for miles. Both of them had left in a foul mood and Azazel had spent the night with his door shut against the world. In the morning they had bumped into each other, each seething with resentment.

It wasn't as though he could punish him. Azazel had stopped giving real punishments after Kurt's seventeenth birthday. He was becoming more uncomfortable when he realized that, even if he hadn't, he couldn't now. Kurt was nineteen, nearly twenty. He wasn't of an age that his father could punish him anymore.

Sometimes he saw his son give him a pained look when he thought he wasn't looking. Kurt had always talked to him about anything, shared what he was reading, everything. They had been friends as well as family. Now they were embroiled in the type of argument that caused families to divide permanently.

The thought scared him nearly witless, but he comforted himself with the idea that it wasn't that bad. Well, it wasn't that bad yet. Azazel knew that if this carried on much longer things could get much worse. If it was going on when Amanda came, if she did come, then he knew it probably would end that way.

Now Kurt sat on the couch, reading a book but tensed as though ready to teleport at any moment to avoid his father. Azazel could feel the frustration building up inside him. He'd never been in such a position before, never known that fatherhood was going to entail this. Certainly he'd heard that children could be rebellious in their teenage years, but Kurt had been a quiet teenager who'd never given him any problems.

Perhaps part of it was the fact that he didn't have anything to rebel about. They had been so safe, so sheltered. There was nothing that Kurt wanted that he couldn't have, and he'd always been warned away from wanting something he couldn't have. Azazel had thought that it was the perfect balance.

He clenched and unclenched his fists. He was starting to get an idea of what his son was feeling. Kurt still loved him even though he was angry, and the same went for Azazel. At the same time he knew he wasn't going to give up on his love for Amanda. His son was going through what was probably the hardest thing he'd ever had to, the biggest dilemma of his life. It pained Azazel all the more to know that he'd been the one to put him through it.

The more he saw it from Kurt's point of view the more he began to wonder if he'd be right. He'd only ever wanted his son to be safe, to not get his heart broken. Now the lessons were contradicting with Kurt's life and breaking his heart, no assistance needed. Azazel felt like a bad father, but in his experience he'd been shunned by all of humanity. Wanting to save his son he'd passed the lessons he'd learned onto him. As such his son had grown up believing in certain boundaries.

Now that Kurt had found a blessed exception to the prejudice, something he rejoiced over, Azazel couldn't fully believe it. He winced as he wondered how this must look to Kurt. It must have felt like a betrayal, like his father didn't really want him to be happy and was holding him back.

Still, Azazel argued within himself. The girl was young and did have a lot to go back to. Why would she gieve up everything? Yet, he'd been young when he'd made most of his decisions and had left behind a good deal in the past for something he believed would be worth it. She had also promised to write, to keep in contact, something that Azazel held in high esteem. The more he thought about it the more he began to doubt his actions.

There were reasons for both sides of the argument, but he didn't know how to apologize. He realized that he'd have to do so, or risk losing his son. He'd have to have faith in a woman and a species that he had very little faith in at all. It wasn't going to be easy.

At the same time he couldn't just say 'sorry' and expect that to work. Kurt wasn't a child anymore. He was an adult who was hurt and angry, standing by his convictions. No. To make this work he would have make Kurt understand why he'd done what he'd done. He didn't know how to do that.

Inspiration struck him sharply and painfully. He nearly fell backwards, trying to put it out of his head. That wasn't an option. Azazel couldn't talk about it, the wounds were too deep, the feelings too strong, too powerful. He couldn't do it; he wasn't ready to discuss this with anyone, not even his son.

_It's been nineteen years. If you're not ready now, when exactly will you be ready?_ a treacherous voice inside him asked.

Still struggling Azazel closed his eyes. Swallowing once he walked into the living room and sat down in a chair opposite Kurt. His son looked up, giving him a blank but hard gaze.

"Kurt," Azazel said, his words running together, "You and I need to talk."

"I am in no mood to argue," said Kurt harshly, slamming his book shut.

"It will not be argument," Azazel sighed, "Syn, what I said about Amanda…I am thinking I am wrong."

Kurt's eyes narrowed.

"You are just saying zat so ve vill stop arguing."

"Nyet," Azazel said, "Nyet…Kurt…I do believe…what I say about love…I only say it because it is what I have seen."

"Vhy vould you tell me somezing like zat zough?" demanded Kurt.

"I did not want you to get hurt-"

Kurt snorted and Azazel realized that the conversation was rapidly going downhill.

"Kurt, you must understand why I think these things. It is time you understood, had reason for warnings I give," Azazel said, his words a rush as he squeezed his eyes shut, "It is time to tell about mother."

He didn't dare open his eyes to see his son's expression. The only way he could get through this was if he kept his eyes closed, pretended like this wasn't happening.

"You know that before you were born I was in thing called Brotherhood, da?" he asked, "It was after war and Shaw but before you."

He could hear Kurt take in a breath as though to answer him and he shook his head violently.

"Do not speak," he said sharply, "I can not…I need to do this all at once."

Azazel shook his head again.

"Stupid organization, stupid idea Brotherhood," he muttered, "Rule humans? Mutants born of humans, cannot get rid of them. Mutants have human children sometimes too so what do you do then?"

Waving his hand he shook his head again.

"I met your mother there," he said.

He started laughing, feeling somewhat hysterical. He shoved the feeling down, knowing that he had to keep in control.

"She was beautiful Kurt, not like humans but like **mutant**," he said, "We were happy when found you had her eyes and skin…like dark indigo or blue…da, like that, because it was beautiful and it was her and I in you."

Slowly his eyes opened and he stared off as though at some far off point.

"I fell in love, in love with devochka I thought understood me, wanted me, and she with me," he said, "And we were happy, for time. And there was you from that. I never married her, too much happened. But there was pregnancy, and that was hard. Doctors at hospital, ah, you know that story."

He waved away his words with his hands.

"And we named you Kurt. She liked name Kurt," Azazel sighed, "We raised you for five months Kurt. Five of happiest months in life. I never thought I would have syn, would have family, so you were unexpected. A great gift."

Kurt's eyes were on him and, out of the corner of his vision, he could see that they were looking at him intently. He'd told stories where Kurt's mother had been a shadowy figure in the background, but he'd never spoken frankly of her before. Azazel hoped that this would help him understand why he felt the way he did.

"Then, we went on mission," he said, "We left you at safe house with godmother, woman named Angel. She loved title. She was mutant with delicate wings, so she thought like real fairy godmother. Doted on you, that girl. Friend of your mother."

He gave a quick smile and then continued.

"When we got back safe house was on fire," he said, "Angel was dying inside. She died protecting you from enemies Kurt. You were in arms."

Azazel ran a hand through his hair, remembering his panic and rage upon realizing what had nearly happened to his son. For several days later he'd had nightmares about what could have happened to him if Angel had been weaker or they'd arrived later. The faint smile on Angel's face when she handed an unharmed Kurt safely to his parents still haunted his dreams sometimes. It had frozen in place after she'd died, and she'd been buried with that expression.

"We tracked down group," he said, "And I will not lie; I killed far more than I would have otherwise. But it was then I realized that we could not go on. What if next time you had been killed? Even if they had not, if they had taken and experimented on you like many of our enemies would have, I would never forgive self."

His fists clenched harder, his nails drawing blood. He didn't dare look at his son.

"So I say to mother; we must go," he said, "I say we must take son someplace safe and raise him, cannot work for Brotherhood and be parents. But she delayed and delayed and finally one day I say to her 'It is either one or other! We both know it cannot be both. No more games, no more! Which one?'"

Once again his eyes closed.

"I will never forget her face when I said that," he said, "She just looked at me and I knew, knew deep within, that she loved you and I. It was just…not enough. Not like real love, but what I had mistaken for it. I knew so little of it Kurt, so little of her. By time she told me she would stay with Brotherhood I already knew answer."

He shook his head violently, his heart and stomach doing flip-flops inside of him. It made him sick to think about it, to think about **her** without becoming angry.

"And I told her that she did not deserve you," he said, "And I told her to give you to me. Then I went to Magneto and told him what I would do. He opened door for me when I left. Maybe he understood, maybe did not. Maybe he was trying to do good thing. I do not care, only appreciate that he let me go."

Sighing Azazel leaned back. His son was staring at him with his golden eyes, inherited from a woman he would never see again, would never want to.

"Since then I have never seen your mother," he said, "I have heard nothing, not even whisper. She has never tried to see us, just like she said she would. She would not try because she did not really love me or you."

Azazel swallowed and teleported next to Kurt. His son was looking at him with softened eyes. It wasn't quite pity, which Azazel wouldn't have been able to stand, but sadness. Mystique had abandoned Kurt as well as him. With a weak smile Azazel put his hand on Kurt's shoulder comfortingly.

"Vatti," Kurt said, "Mutter-"

"Was not worth it," Azazel said, "I know I have again told you bad thing, thing that will make you sad. But you must not take lesson of abandonment from story. That was what I did, and I did it wrong. I should have…"

He shook his head.

"I should have taken ideas, not that love is limited even among own kind, but that love can be unlimited," he said, "I should have taken what I did instead of what she did and used it as standard. But I was just trying to protect you. You were all I had."

"Vhat am I supposed to take?" Kurt asked, tears pooling in his eyes.

"What you take away is that real love is willing to fight, to sacrifice," said Azazal, "Real love will try to stay together, even if odds are impossible, even if constantly ripped apart. And you Kurt…you have chance to know that, to find out for self. I should not stand in way."

Azazel sighed.

"You ask much of Amanda," he said, "Very much; come down and leave everything. But you cannot go to her. If she wants you, she must come. That she suggested this speaks for what she feels."

He hesitated before continuing.

"Kurt, you are adult," he said, "I wish you best syn, it is all I have ever wanted for you. I hope that you will get it, because you deserve it."

Turning his head he saw his son's lips turn up in a small smile.

"Danke vatti," he said.

"For what?" asked Azazel, "I tell you what you already knew, in some form."

"Nein vatti, I did not," said Kurt, "You did not tell me just things about love. You tell me zat you vere vrong. You haf nefer said zis to me before und…I am glad zat I am right."

Azazel smirked. His son had quite a bit of him in him.

"But," Kurt continued, "I am also glad zat you too beliefe I am right. Because no vone should haf to believe what you did forefer."

Tears built in his eyes and Azazel looked away. The roles exchanged and he felt Kurt's hand on his shoulder, its weight reassuring.


	18. Chapter 18

_March 20, 1984_

__Dear Kurt, __

_ I miss you. I was looking through drafts of my old letters and I realized that I've started every single letter to you like that. It should be my opener from now on or I should just write it at the top of every piece of paper I own to save time. I could be more original but I guess I'll stop writing it when it stops being true. In other words I'd better start writing it on the rest of my stationary. _

Kurt smiled, his hands running over the paper. He sat with his back against the tree trunk, letting his feet dip down lazily towards the ground. His tail was wrapped around the branch for extra support, but he doubted he would need it. He'd been up to that tree every week to read all of Amanda's letters and it hadn't once given out on him. It had never given out on him when he was a child either.

He wanted peace when he was reading about her, and it was hard to have peace when he was in his cluttered room. His father could also be teleporting into the living room. Even though they were no longer fighting his father's teleportation always made a loud noise. No; it was better to read her letters out in the chilly sunshine of the slowly dawning spring.

_ Everyone here still thinks I'm a little crazy, but happier certainly. I'm sure of that. I never mentioned leaving the circus before I went to Germany and now I'm talking about backpacking my way through Germany before maybe going to college. I say it all with a big smile on my face though, so I know they view me as somewhere between crazy and happy. They say I must have found some sort of incredible enlightenment while I was up here. They have no idea. _

He allowed himself a chuckle.

_ My brother was here three days ago, trying to get me to come under his guardianship. I'm pretty sure that he's not interested in mending fences. I'm lucky that the rest of the circus hates him. As for myself I told him that I wasn't interested in whatever lies he felt like telling me now. I hope that keeps him away, but I know that the rest of the circus has already blacklisted him. They're not fond of people who leave families directly after a tragedy and they know that I don't like him. _

Kurt's eyes narrowed and gripped his paper a little harder. Amanda had told him about her brother. He didn't mind if the man wanted to apologize to her, but if he took custody it changed several things. Amanda would still be able to come when she said, but it might be harder to explain her sudden disappearance when she returned. He was starting to dislike Stefan more and more with each passing day.

_ Other than that it's been pretty normal. Our final performances here have gone over well with the British public. It's good to know. My mother said that when she came over here the first time in the late 50's it was to a pretty xenophobic audience. I was only about three then so I don't remember it well, but I can see that it's a huge relief to some of the older staff to have things go so well. Live and learn. _

_ One of the trapeze artists is teaching me to make jam. I know you think it sounds random and I'd have to agree with you. However, she was friends with my mother and they used to make this kind of berry jam that was really good. They never wrote down the recipe so I decided to learn it. I think she enjoys having someone to help her. She misses my mother as I do, but life seems to keep moving no matter what. _

Jam. It did seem random until he considered it. Well, why shouldn't she learn how to make jam? There were plenty of wild blackberries where they were. She might even enjoy doing that when she came over. It was in that frame of mind that he moved onto the next paragraph, making his excitement grow.

_ I'm making preparations to come over. I've got money saved up; I'll transfer it when I'm in Munich to a German bank. I'm also wondering if there's anything you'd like me to get you when I come over. I don't know what I'd be able to fit exactly, so don't ask for an arm chair or anything. Unless it's from Aekea. I could probably manage a small chair from there. They do really compact ones. _

Kurt smiled, his eyes devouring information about her plans to leave and come back to him. It couldn't come soon enough for him.

_ I've been in the library looking the things you asked about. _

He became more serious. He'd asked, in his last letter, if she could find any information about mutations and how they were received in the world. He knew that he was in a rural part of the world and there wasn't much information. Most of the books in the monastery and observatory were old.

They wouldn't have the type of texts he was interested in reading. Brother Matthew tried to keep it well stocked, but too many things like this probably couldn't be bought without looking suspicious. Not that he didn't like the books that were there. His father had gone over there that morning to return some of the ones that they'd borrowed. They just weren't the ones he was looking for now.

_ Apparently the 'Mutant Phenomenon' as it's being called is more widespread than you think. People record mutants that they run into, not names thank God, but numbers of the ones who have publicly announced their powers. The highest concentration of cases is supposed to be in the United States. It figures, doesn't it? _

_ Conversely the country with the second highest concentration is Russia. Sometimes it seems like those countries were meant for competition. I hope they don't start having a race to see who has the most mutants. They're being stupid enough as it is with missiles and countries. They don't need to start using people too and I don't think that the people in question would be too welcome to the idea of being used._

The thought of the way his father was used by the Russian military crossed his mind. He grimaced. No, his father would never let that happen again.

_ I digress. When I was in the library I found a couple things I think you'd like. I xeroxed copies and included them in this envelope._

Kurt had wondered why then envelope was so big. It lay on the grass beneath his feet and he ventured a look. He'd simply grabbed the letter when he saw that it was on top of the other papers. It was almost embarrassing how single-minded he'd been. He'd have to take a closer look at it later when he was done with her letter.

_ They're all in English, written by, you guessed it, Americans. _

He laughed.

_ Well, I'm not sure that you can call one of them an American. He was born in Britain but raised for the most part in America. It was something like that anyway. _

Why did people have to be so confusing?

_ In any case, his name is Professor Charles Xavier. He runs a school for gifted children and is some sort of top-ranking geneticist at the forefront of his field. There are some other ones by one Dr. Jean Grey. She was his student and is actually a teacher at his school. Sometimes they collaborated on papers. There's also one by Dr. Hank McCoy, another former student of Xavier who's a mutant himself and a fellow paper collaborator. I'm seeing a pattern. How about you?_

He laughed and nodded. Kurt began to wonder if perhaps this Xavier and Grey were mutants too, only hiding it. He couldn't understand why they would want to unless it was to create an air of objectivity in their work. Kurt could understand that; Brother Matthew had explained things like that to him in school.

_ The papers are very interesting; they explain a lot about the x-gene. I even learned some things from it. Even from an ocean away you're expanding my knowledge. However, I don't think that it's caused by radiation like your father mentioned. In some cases mutants in the definition that we're talking about have been made by radiation, but it's rare. I'm not here to give you a summary of the essays though; you can read them yourself and make up your mind. _

_ Dr. McCoy wrote a good one on visible mutations and why animal characteristics and blue seem to be a common theme. His mutation is very visible. The page I copied from the book has a picture, so you'll understand what I mean. He's living a public life; I hear he's going up for a seat in the Senate. I'll tell you if he gets elected or not, but I hear he has a good shot at getting elected as the Senator for Illinois. _

_ That's a big deal from what I understand of American government. At the same time they're raging over whether or not he should be allowed to be in government or not, an argument that leaves me both baffled and irritated. Something big is coming up there, I can feel it. I hope it will be for the better. _

How could a mutant senator not be a good thing? Kurt didn't know how mutated this 'McCoy' was, but if people got used to mutants than they could get used to him. One day he might be able to go to America and walk down the street with nothing more than the occasional stare. He didn't ever think the stares would fully go away. He wasn't naive.

Kurt frowned. He'd never seriously considered leaving the confines of the mountains before. In the past he'd been curious, but he'd never actually thought he would. If Amanda was coming to him that would be enough, he was sure of that. Still, he would have to examine the thought in due time and see if it deserved any consideration. Everything meant something after all.

_ The story was on the BBC here and the person arguing against it was called Graydon Creed. I felt like hitting him over the head with a shovel, I really did. His arguments sounded like a two-year-old screaming because he's been put to bed early. I bet he has daddy issues or something._

If the man had known Amanda had been watching he probably wouldn't have been so candid with his words. He had no doubt that she would have used a shovel.

_ My birthday is now three months away. We're going to be leaving England and make a loop through Scotland and Ireland. I'm a little nervous about going to Ireland. The IRA planted a bomb in the hotel in Brighton that Prime Minister Thatcher was staying at last October. All you heard for months afterwards was how something should be done, how someone should crack down on them. _

His eyebrows shot up. She was going to such a dangerous place? He didn't like it. He didn't like it at all.

_ Overall Ireland doesn't seem like the most peaceful place to perform._

He certainly agreed with that.

_ However, we've got some pretty great security. We're foreign but we're performers and I don't really think that anyone is going to bother a circus. We're only performing in secure locations as well, and even then there's not many performances. The managers are mindful of our safety. _

_ And, as nervous as I am, I'm excited as well. After Ireland we finish our tour of the United Kingdom, meaning we're returning to Munich and disbanding for a while. They can use that time find someone to fill in my act. Right after we arrive I'll get a car and then I'll see you. It's a win-win situation really. _

_ Until then Kurt, with all my love, _

_ Amanda_

Kurt smiled and put the letter in his pocket. He would re-read it later that evening when he composed his reply. Then, in the morning, he would give the letter to Brother Matthew. The monk would shake his head like he always did, but smile while he was doing it. Kurt knew that he was happy for him.

Still smiling he teleported to the bottom of the tree. Kurt gathered up the rest of the package and walked into the house. He put them onto the table just as his father teleported next to him. Anyone else might have jumped but Kurt was so used to the noise that it sounded no more unusual than a door opening.

"Package for you," Azazel said, dumping a large envelope onto the table.

"Anozer from Amanda?" asked Kurt, his eyes lighting up, "So soon?"

Azazel shrugged and Kurt thought he saw a flicker of concern in his eyes. However, Kurt was too immersed in the package to pay much attention. He sat down at the table and started ripping apart the envelope. His tail began wagging of its own accord and his father gave a much put-upon sigh before leaving the room.

When Kurt was done with the wrapping he frowned. There was the foreign supplement of an English newspaper with a card that had been hastily scribbled on.

_ I'm glad you're in Germany_

Kurt's frown deepened. Then he picked up the newspaper.

* * *

><p>It wasn't that Azazel didn't like that his son was receiving love letters. It made him quite happy. If it wasn't for the fact that he became google-eyed, clumsy, and prone to strange grins after reading them then he wouldn't have minded at all. You couldn't get a sensible word from him for the rest of the day and, just when Azazel had gotten used to him acting normal, another letter would arrive and the cycle would repeat.<p>

He was reconciling himself to the fact that Amanda was going to come. More than that he was reconciling himself to the fact that she was probably going to become his daughter-in-law. Kurt had essentially asked her to stay forever and she had accepted. It baffled him that they hadn't made it official yet, but he decided not to talk to Kurt about it. Who was he to lecture Kurt about not marrying a woman?

The two of them getting married was not an uncomfortable thought; they were certainly in love. Two packages in a day was strange though. Amanda wrote every week and she was always very good about that. He applauded her on her punctuality and began to feel more comfortable with the situation. Having two made him wonder if something was wrong, if something had happened that she felt she had to talk to Kurt about without delay. He had a feeling that, if that was the case, it wouldn't be good.

His fears seemed confirmed when he heard a stifled gasp from the next room over. His eyebrows furrowed and he teleported in.

"What is wrong?" he asked.

Kurt's eyes were closed and he breathed out. His hand inched the paper closer so Azazel could read the headline.

_Senate Introduces Mutant Registration Act_

Azazel's eyes skimmed the text with a mounting feeling of anger. How dare they do this? A familiar, long-buried rage welled up in him. He swallowed it though. It was no longer a fight that he was a part of. He couldn't fight the humans, could only try to live with them. How could he when they kept making it so difficult though? How could he?"

"Shaw and Magneto told me," Azazel said through clenched teeth, "I was told this is way it would go."

"Zey vere going to elect mutant senator," said Kurt despairingly.

"The words you should think of were 'going to'," Azazel said bitterly, "This is what world out there is like. It is something we cannot afford to forget."

"Nein," Kurt said quietly, "We cannot."


	19. Chapter 19

Amanda looked at the newspaper, nodding to herself in satisfaction. It had come out two weeks ago and she'd shipped it immediately after, which meant that Kurt would be reading it now.

_Mutant Registration Act Dismissed From Senate_

Another page in was the headline;

_Hank McCoy Elected to Senate_

She felt hope from reading both of them together. Amanda knew, in her mind, that it was something that could come back. Anyone could introduce a similar bill. However, she knew if it did come up there would be at least one senator to fight it. She smiled to herself before putting the newspaper away.

Amanda finished packing her bags, looking over everything one last time. She went through her mental checklist, checking everything that she needed to put away and everything that had to be tied down in her trailer. Amanda nodded in satisfaction. She had everything. Her family had always been good at travelling light.

The thought made her hesitate. What was she going to bring with her when she went to see Kurt? It couldn't be too much. She could rent a storage locker there, but she had a feeling that it wouldn't be adequate. Besides, she'd have to keep paying into it every month and her money was going to run out eventually. She'd rather it be spent on something other than storing her extra things.

With a sigh she buckled her suitcases closed. She'd figure it out when she got there. Right now they had to make it to their next performance by Friday. She didn't want to hold everyone up on their last tour. Grabbing a jacket she headed out. It might be April, but it was an English April and that meant English cold.

She doubted the weather was too much warmer where Kurt was.

* * *

><p>"See?"<p>

He slammed the newspaper that Amanda had sent him down on the table. His father put his cup of coffee down and started leafing through the pages gingerly.

"I told you," Kut said triumphantly, "I told you no vone vould go zrough viz it."

Azazel said nothing. He just continued flipping the pages.

"Vell?" asked Kurt.

His father looked up and took another sip of his coffee.

"Well what?" he asked.

"Vhat do you mean vell vhat?" demanded Kurt, "Zey dismissed it."

"It will come back," Azazel said darkly, "Watch Kurt, it will come back. Something will happen, and it will come back."

"Vatti, I do not understand why you haf to be so pessimistic," sighed Kurt, "It is gone, zere ist mutant senator. Equality!"

Azazel sighed and flipped a few pages in newspaper.

"There is never mutant equality, not really. You will learn this one day," said Azazel, "Though I know it will not be good for you."

Sometimes Kurt wished his father would stop making cryptic comments. He really wasn't a child anymore.

"Still, as it goes…"

Azazel tilted his head.

"Neeploha," he said.

Kurt's frown deepened.

"You alvays haf to be gloom and doom."

"What is that supposed to mean?" asked Azazel.

"Vhat ist zat supposed to mean?" asked Kurt, "You vere being negatif again vatti, alvays nega-"

"I was not negative! I said not so bad," said Azazel, looking up sharply.

Kurt winced in embarrassment and shrank back.

"Oh."

"Hmph," Azazel said, "Oh is right. Really? I thought I teach better. Apparently I was wrong. This wrong I will admit."

"Vatti-"

"Say it Kurt."

"Really vatti? I am almost tventy-"

"Say it!"

"Fine," Kurt muttered, deciding to give him one tiny concession, "Ya ploha gavaru pa Ruski."

"That is right," Azazel said, "Your Russian **is** bad. I should have found monastery there, make it better."

Kurt rolled his eyes and sat down opposite his father. His father was always making comments like that. Kurt had come to ignore them.

"I still do not understand," Kurt said, "It is really qvite good."

Azazel opened his mouth and closed it again. He flipped to a page further inside the newspaper and pointed at a headline.

"Perhaps I should be happy, but something here makes me feel bad. Suppose I should not feel that way," he said, "This is what happens when you do bad things. But still, it does not sit well with me."

Still puzzled Kurt looked down at the article.

_Mutant Terrorist Magneto Jailed_

Kurt's memory gave him a gentle prod.

"You knew him," Kurt said quietly.

"You too, in way," said Azazel.

Kurt looked up.

"I tell you godmother was devochka called Angel, died protecting you. Good devochka," he said, "This is god**father**."

He felt his stomach drop away as he looked down at the mug shots of the mutant terrorist Magneto, also known as Erik Lensherr.

"It says zat he tried to kill United Nations delegation," Kurt said.

"Nyet," Azazel said, "I do not think so. He was man of honor. Would not kill whole delegation if had nyet weapons. Many things, but had sense of fair play."

Azazel leaned back in his chair, obviously deep in thought.

"When he kill Shaw he give option to join or leave peacefully," he continued, "We were not forced. He see all were equal, treat defeated side with honor. Very fair, more fair then one would think, considering Shaw murdered mother."

Resting his head on his hand Kurt looked down at the picture of his godfather. It felt strange, knowing that he and this man were somehow connected.

"He really did open door when I left," said Azazel, "No hard feelings. True man of honor, like I say. I am glad that you inherited that."

An involuntary shudder rippled through him. He wasn't sure if he wanted anything in common with Magneto.

"Und now he ist in jail."

Azazel waved his words away as if they were somehow insulting.

"Kurt, nyet jail will hold him," he said, "Perhaps for little while, da, but not forever. Mark words, he will be out in year, maybe year and half."

His father closed the newspaper and got up.

"Everything can change in short amount of time," said Azazel, "World is built on shifting sands Kurt, ours more than others. Mutants must be quick on feet, so good thing we are teleporters. We must move fast or everything will be gone."

Kurt leaned his head further onto his arm, his lips pursed and his eyes closed. Thoughts were rattling around in his head, coming to a conclusion. It was a conclusion that was as welcoming as it was terrifying. Nodding to himself he got up and started up to his room. He paused on the staircase to call after his father;

"I zink I vill go to monastery later."

"Really?" asked Azazel, teleporting into the room, "Why?"

Kurt clenched and unclenched his hand. Saying it was hard. If he said it out loud it meant that he was going to have to do it.

"I need to send letter to Amanda."

His father sighed and threw his hands into the air.

"Another one?"

"Ja, anozer vone."

"You sent one yesterday," Azazel said.

"I know."

"And now another? Matthew is monk, not post man. He is not so good at making so many trips," Azazel said, "Are you sure you need to send this?"

"Ja vatti, I do."

* * *

><p>Amanda stretched, her arms reaching for the ceiling. She looked down at the paper in front of her, wondering about how she should write back. There was enough time to take care with her words. They weren't putting on their first performance in Scotland until the next day after all.<p>

Several footsteps at the door made her look up. A letter had been slipped underneath it and she frowned. She'd already gotten her mail for the day, but it was possible someone had made another mail run. Amanda got up from her small desk and retrieved the letter from under the door.

It was from Kurt; like she'd suspected. Amanda had to wonder just how much strain their long-distance relationship was putting on Brother Matthew, a man she had never met but was deeply indebted to. All of the letters were addressed to and from him, the only sign who it was for was the cross hatches in the corner of the envelope.

Other people had noticed. One of her friends had asked why she kept getting so much mail from a monastery in the Alps. Thinking fast Amanda had replied that while she was in Germany she'd stayed at the monastery during a storm. That was true in a way, and the best lies did have a little truth mixed in with them.

She'd gone on to say that she'd had several theological questions while there and was engaged with a lengthy debate with one of the monks. Her friend had widened their eyes.

"I never pegged you for a theologian," she'd said.

"What do you think I read up there?" Amanda had replied.

Her friend had laughed and, like she'd hoped she would, spread the story around the circus. She was glad that they'd bought it. Then again, what reason would she have to lie? She'd been with them for a long time and they knew her better than to think she was doing anything illegal. Even if they did think that the story was a little strange then they wouldn't be able to guess the truth.

Amanda opened the envelope and unfolded the letter inside.

_April 4, 1984_

_Dear Amanda,_

_ This is a short letter, I know, but I sent you one earlier. I was too apprehensive to talk about this then, too unsure, and too full of misgivings. It's only now that I find it in myself to send this. Forgive me for that and I hope that this second one brings something that you want to hear, or at least it will not be something that you find repulsive. _

His writing skills were much better than hers, his penmanship flowed and his prose was like every word belonged in a novel. It was the opposite of his carefree speech in person. Really, she should have seen it coming. He was the one who'd spent his whole life with an intensely classical education. It always made her self-conscious when she wrote her own letters.

What he'd written made her frown and worry clog her throat. What was it he was so worried about? She'd never gotten a letter in between her usual ones. The only time she'd sent him an in-between letter was the newspaper about the registration act. She swallowed and continued reading.

_ Amanda, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?_

The world stopped but her eyes kept reading.

_ I know we're both quite young, but you're coming to stay with us. And, as you yourself said, our ages doesn't make what we feel any less real. If this is really what you want then I would beg you to marry me and become part of our family. I pray that it is your wish as well mine. _

_ Please, take as much time to consider this as possible. I would rather you answer me as you really want to, even if it takes a little longer than usual. _

_ Forever yours, _

_ Kurt_

Tears fell down her face, landing on the letter and smudging the ink. Her heart turned and the ground shifted beneath her. Hardly knowing what she was doing she ran up to her desk. Her hands trembling she clutched for a pen. At the same time she had to push away her tears just so she could see what she was doing.

* * *

><p>Kurt had walked on eggshells ever since he'd sent the letter to Amanda. Now that he actually held her response in his hands he felt like he couldn't open it. Ever since he'd gotten it he'd felt like something was about to change drastically. Alone in the tree he always read his letters in he rocked back and forth on his ankles.<p>

Finally, in a burst of courage, he ripped open the envelope and pulled out the stationary from inside. Only three words were scrawled on it.

_ More than anything. _

His heart soared and he let out a triumphant whoop. Then, for the first time in his life, he fell out of the tree.


	20. Chapter 20

_June 20, 1984_

Amanda steered her car around the curve. She smiled to herself. Five months ago she had driven up the mountain in a mixture of terror and foreboding. Snow had sleeted down on her car and the road had become difficult to see. She remembered the fear of her first crash, of the cold, of the idea that she was going to die there and no one would ever know.

June was a completely different story from January. Flowers grew in patches around the mountain, its roads blessedly clear. Amanda was driving up in the glowing sun, although she could see the beginning of a marvelous sunset. It was interesting to see, considering that it was nine o'clock at night.

No matter. Amanda's internal clock hadn't synchronized with her surroundings yet. She knew where she was going, and she knew exactly what was going to happen when she got there. Amanda had already written to Kurt about it. She was going to arrive at the monastery, her car would be stowed in storage, and then she was going to get changed. Directly afterwards she was going to get married.

Her stomach flipped and her knuckles gripped her steering wheel. She'd never imagined being married at eighteen. However, and Amanda smiled privately to herself at the thought, why keep looking after you'd found the perfect man? Her nerves quieted and Amanda let out a slow breath. Things were going to be fine. 

* * *

><p>"Zings are not going to be fine!"<p>

Azazel watched Kurt with mild interest as he paced the small room in the back of the monastery. It was funny in several ways and he had to fight not to laugh. It wasn't like he had any real idea of how his son must feel. Azazel had never married Mystique, though he'd wanted to, and it was probably a good thing that he hadn't. It would have made things harder.

"I mean," Kurt said, running a hand though his hair, "Zis…zis ist not fairy tale vedding. I vant zings to be good for her but…mein Gott! And vhere is she?"

His son's tail flickered in agitation.

"Vas she not supposed to be here an hour ago?" asked Kurt, "Vhat if she changed mind?"

"Kurt," Azazel said slowly, "you have wrong. Amanda **will **be here in hour and I do not think she will change mind. So stop pacing."

His son nodded, swallowing hard.

"You do not zink I am underdressed, do you?"

Azazel considered the question. They weren't the type of family to have, or be able to procure, tuxedos. The rings were hard enough to get; they'd been made in a roundabout way when Kurt used the metal working tools at the monastery to make twisted rings out of bronze wire. It was make-do, but Azazel figured that they meant more because his son had made them.

Clothes were different; they hadn't had much time to make them. So there was no tuxedo as Azazel understood was the norm. Kurt was instead wearing a dress shirt with black pants. They'd found a jacket from somewhere that matched the pants, and he'd put that on. He'd scrubbed them clean with an almost religious fervor. He almost looked like a younger version of Azazel when he'd first started wearing suits. It wasn't a bad look.

"Nyet," said Azazel.

Kurt turned away from him. Azazel watched him pace some more, his feet taking on a mind of their own. He hadn't put his shoes on yet, which allowed his pacing to take him across the floor, up the wall, and across the ceiling. Azazel watched him come back down again, feeling slightly dizzy.

"Vatti, ist mien tie crooked?" asked Kurt suddenly.

Something in Azazel froze. This had to be the absolute pinnacle of his son's wedding nerves. Azazel had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep down the laughter that was desperate to come to the surface.

"Kurt, you are not wearing tie."

Kurt reached at his throat and felt around. His eyes grew wide and horrified.

"Mien Gott!" he yelled, "I haf forgotten tie!"

"Kurt-"

"Vhere ist it?" Kurt said, throwing objects around him in a blind panic.

"Kurt!"

"Vhat vatti?" demanded Kurt, whirling around.

Azazel threw his hands in the air.

"You do not **own **tie," he said, "You never have."

His son's eyes widened and he buried his face in his hands. Rolling his eyes Azazel stepped next to Kurt and put his hand on his shoulder.

"Why so nervous?" asked Azazel, "It cannot be about wedding night. You have already-"

"Danke vatti, but I do not zink I need to have zis discussion right now," Kurt moaned.

"Alright, alright," said Azazel, putting his hands up in mock surrender, "She is coming. I do not know Amanda as well as I would like, since she is soon to be nevestka, but I have carried more letters in past months than in whole life. And syn, I was in war and underground group."

Kurt deflated and sat down, his hands over his eyes.

"I am just…just," he settled for lamely, slumping into his seat.

"Do not worry," Azazel said.

"Easy for you to say," Kurt replied, "You are not ze vone getting married."

"No, but I do have to make sure I do not lose rings or leave at house," Azazel said, "That is big responsibility."

He patted his chest pocket confidently. Azazel froze immediately afterwards. Nothing was in his chest pocket.

"Somezing vrong vatti?" asked Kurt.

"Nyet! Nothing at all," Azazel laughed.

Kurt looked at him suspiciously and Azazel fervently wished something would happen to get him from under that stare. As if in answer to his wordless prayer the door opened.

"Matthew, good to see you," Azazel said in relief.

Matthew raised his eyebrows and coughed. Azazel had noticed the decline of his friend's health and was beginning to wonder if it was permanent. When Matthew had finished he said;

"That's a change. But I came to tell you that Amanda arrived a few minutes ago. I've just finished telling her what she should say and so on."

"She ist early," moaned Kurt, his eyes wide and worried, "I put flowers in her room, for bouquet. Did she like?"

"She did," Matthew said, his smile gentle, "She's very happy Kurt."

Kurt nodded and leaned back. Matthew sighed and tilted his head towards Azazel.

"He's not unlike many nervous grooms I've seen," he said.

"Ah, so you have experience?" asked Azazel.

"Well, some-"

"Good, you talk to him," Azazel said, "I must teleport back to house."

Matthew's eyes narrowed.

"Did you forget the rings?"

"I will nyet do it again."

Matthew sighed before walking over to Kurt. Azazel used the opportunity to discreetly leave the room and teleport for the house. 

* * *

><p>She was an angel, an angel that had somehow crashed into his life and was now floating towards him. There was no other way to describe his fiancée. Kurt knew that his vision of her was enhanced after being away from her for so many months, but he was sure that she literally took his breath away.<p>

Her golden hair curled down her bare shoulders, longer than when he'd last seen it. A dress that glinted slightly in the fading light of the sunset hugged her body closely, a veil over it all. In her hands she held the flowers that he'd picked for her. He'd made sure that they were white and blue, the white for the wedding and the blue to compliment her eyes.

She smiled as she came up the aisle. He smiled back, feeling his heart in his throat but not in the way that had him running in circles while he waited. Amanda laid the flowers on a small table next to the steps as if they were some precious item. Gently she stepped up to the front steps of the small side chapel, her eyes fixed on his.

"Welcome," said Matthew, "We are gathered here today to celebrate before God the marriage of a man and woman who love each other."

He was speaking in English, a favor to Amanda since she still had a little trouble with German. He'd been happy that Matthew had been able to do it.

"Marriage is a most honorable estate," Matthew continued, "created and instituted by God, signifying unto us the mystical union, which also exists between Christ and the Church; so too may this marriage be adorned by true and abiding love."

Kurt smiled. He knew the ceremony had been cut down because of all the responses from the congregation that were required. It didn't matter that he didn't know that many people, that he'd lived such an isolated life. All that mattered was the fact that the woman in front of him wanted to share that life with him.

"Amanda and Kurt," Matthew said, "as you dedicate yourselves to one another, we are mindful of the presence of God around us."

His hands trembling Kurt reached forward. He held each of her hands in one of his and looked into her eyes.

"I, Kurt Vagner , take you, Amanda Sefton, to be my vife," Kurt said, "for better or vorse, sickness and health, in plenty and vant, to stand togezer in our times of joy and sorrow, alvays to be faithful to you. I vill love you and honor you all the days of my life. I love you."

He'd practiced the words over and over, trying to get them perfect. He was relieved that he hadn't made a mistake.

"I, Amanda Sefton," Amanda said, her lips turned up in a smile, "take you, Kurt Wagner, to be my husband, for better or worse, sickness and health, in plenty and want, to stand together in our times of joy and sorrow, always to be faithful to you. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life. I love you."

His stomach flipped in anticipation. He knew what was coming next.

"Who holds the rings?" asked Matthew, his voice a touch reproachful for some reason.

"I do," Azazal said, taking them out of his pocket.

Matthew nodded to him and said;

"Let us bless these rings."

There was a paused and Kurt bowed his head, breathing deeply.

"Oh God, these rings are circles, symbols of holiness, of perfection and peace ... that which has no beginning and no end," Matthew said, "And so, in this moment, bring your blessing to these rings to also be symbols of unity, of joining and of commitment. Grant that the love which Bride and Groom have for each other now may always be just this way."

Azazel came forward and handed the rings to Matthew. In turn Matthew handed one ring to Kurt. Kurt's hand closed around it, feeling its weight.

"These are the rings that Amanda and Kurt will wear for the rest of their lives," Matthew said, "that express the love that they have for one another. Let us take a moment and send our prayers, our thoughts and our love to these rings, so that as they wear them, they will carry our love with them as well."

There was another pause and Kurt swallowed. He slipped the ring on Amanda's finger, giving a prayer of thanks that it fit.

"Vith zis ring, I zee ved," he said.

Amanda smiled and put his slightly larger band on his finger.

"With this ring," she said, "I thee wed."

Matthew nodded at the two of them and Kurt felt his heart leap.

"Amanda and Kurt," Matthew said, "as the two of you have joined this marriage uniting as husband and wife, and as you this day affirm your faith and love for one another, I would ask that you always remember to cherish each other as special and unique individuals, that you respect the thoughts, ideas and suggestions of one another. Be able to forgive, do not hold grudges, and live each day that you may share it together - as from this day forward you shall be each other's home, comfort and refuge, your marriage strengthened by your love and respect. Those that God has placed together, let no man tear them asunder."

There was a pause and Matthew nodded again.

"Let us pray."

Kurt bowed his head, clutching Amanda's hands tightly.

"Oh Lord, our hearts are filled with great happiness on this wedding day. They come before You pledging their hearts and lives to one another. Grant that they may be ever true and loving, living together is such a way as to bring happiness to the marriage. Temper their hearts with kindness and understanding, rid them of all pretense of jealousy," Matthew prayed, "Help them to remember to be each other's sweetheart, helpmate, friend and guide, so that together they may meet the cares and problems of life more bravely. And with the passage of time, may the home they are creating today, truly be a place of love and harmony, where your spirit is ever present. Bless this union we pray, and walk beside Amanda and Kurt throughout all their lives together. Amen."

Kurt looked up and saw that, as ever, Amanda was smiling at him.

"Amanda and Kurt," Matthew said, "in so much as the two of you have agreed to live together in matrimony, have promised your love for each other by these vows, the giving of these rings and the joining of your hands, I now declare you to be husband and wife. Congratulations, you may kiss your bride."

Kurt leaned forward and touched his lips to Amanda. They felt warm and welcoming to him after months apart. It wasn't just a homecoming kiss though. It was their first kiss as a couple. She'd walked into the chapel as an unattainable dream, and now she would leave as his wife. It was more than he'd ever thought he could hope for.


	21. Chapter 21

_September 28, 1984_

"Brother Jerome? This is your first monastery, correct?" asked Matthew.

The young man nodded, finishing putting his things away in his room.

"I just came from the seminary," Jerome said.

Matthew watched as Jerome straightened a few books on his shelf. He read the titles; medical journals and scientific papers. He smiled to himself. This would be easy.

"You are here to take over for Brother Peter in his position as our doctor, am I correct?" he said.

"Yes sir," agreed Jerome.

"We thought his leg would heal, but it seems that the older we get the harder that becomes," Matthew said, "I'm not so young myself. Now, has anyone taken the time to show you around?"

"Briefly sir," Jerome said.

"Then you should come with me," Matthew said, "There are a few things to discuss about your duties and so forth."

Jerome nodded and followed him down the hall.

"I believe that you trained in Dusseldorf," Matthew said.

"Yes, I did," Jerome said, "I grew up in that city."

"It must be a big change, coming up to the mountains," said Matthew.

"It is sir," Jerome said, scratching the back of his neck nervously, "Still, wherever I am needed, that is where I will go."

"A good answer," said Matthew.

He paused, collecting his words in his mind. Almost casually he said;

"I believe there was a spot of trouble at that medical school with a mutant a few years back."

Next to him Jerome stiffened. His lips pursed tightly together.

"There was."

"What was it…ah yes!" Matthew said, "They found out about his mutation and decided that he'd cheated to gain admittance so they revoked his acceptance."

If possible Jerome's expression became stonier.

"That is what happened, yes."

"It's a wonder they let mutants into schools at all," said Matthew, "Who would want them to be in the same place as normal people?"

Jerome stopped walking. Matthew halted too and affected a surprised look. They didn't need to go any further though; the door was right there.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Behind him the young man's fists clenched tightly.

"Sir," he said, "I appreciate that you are older than me, and have been here for many years. But that man never cheated. I never knew him but from what I'd seen he had impeccable character. They just didn't want him because he was different."

He saw Jerome give a frustrated breath.

"We protested," he said, "because what happened wasn't fair and it wasn't right. And I'll bet you know that; bet you know that I signed that petition. So if you think I'm going to stand here and listen to an innocent man maligned then I would like to return to my room."

Matthew smiled. He could see Jerome's brow crinkle in confusion.

"A good answer," Matthew said, "I am sorry about this, but one cannot afford to be too careful when lives are in the balance."

"Lives?" asked Jerome.

With another smile Matthew gestured to a door.

"Twenty years ago I found a man and a baby in the snow outside the monastery during a bad storm," he said, "The two of them looked…different shall we say. They were different in a way that was particularly bad for this area as well. Many people in these mountains don't even know that mutants exist."

Jerome's expression went from confused to curious.

"And so they began to work for this monastery, their abilities allowing them to rescue travelers," said Matthew, "They are named Azazel and Kurt Wagner. Azazel is the father and Kurt is the son. That's their family, although Kurt has recently married a young woman named Amanda. She's not a mutant, but she shares their secret. There are only a few brothers here who know about them."

The young monk's eyes widened in astonishment.

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked.

"Because I heard about the incident, about the letter you signed with forty nine other students saying you thought that what they'd done was unfair. And because of that I think you can be trusted," Matthew said, "And, as I said, I'm not exactly young anymore. We need to have more people knowing about this family."

He opened the doors and walked in. Nervously Jerome followed him, looking about. Matthew shut the doors to the chapel behind him and took out the key. He made sure that the doors were firmly locked before he turned back to the chapel. Matthew took a step forward and called out;

"You can come out now."

There was a soft explosion and Azazel stood before them. Jerome stepped back, his eyes wide. For a moment no one spoke. Then Jerome breathed out.

"I can see how this would be problematic," he said.

Azazel let out a short, barking laugh.

"What way to say it," he said, "It has been in past."

Jerome gave a small smile and thrust his hand out. Azazel smirked and took it, shaking it firmly. Matthew saw Jerome wince under the pressure of Azazel's hand. He'd been on the receiving end of one of those bone-crushing handshakes a few times. It was why Matthew tended to avoid it and Azazel knew it.

"Brother Jerome Spreckels," said Jerome.

"Azazel Wagner," Azazel said.

He let go and Matthew saw the look of relief on Jerome's face.

"Are your son and his wife going to be joining us?" asked Jerome.

Azazel rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Nyet. Deserve time off every now and then," he said, "Newly-wed. Did Matthew mention that?"

He jerked his thumb in Matthew's direction. Jerome nodded.

"Yes, he did."

Matthew watched as Jerome took another deep breath. Even if he had been around mutants it was still probably hard to come across one who looked like an artist's depiction of the Devil. Still, Matthew had to admit that he was impressed with the aplomb with which he was handling the first meeting. This had been easy.

Perhaps, after twenty years, he'd found his successor. He certainly hoped so. 

* * *

><p>Amanda sighed and let Kurt continue to stroke her hair.<p>

"This is amazing," she said.

"Ja," he said, still somewhat distracted, "Vatti used to bring me here vhen I vas young."

Amanda leaned forward, earning a disgruntled and disappointed sigh from Kurt. She ignored him and let her fingertips brush against the torrent of the waterfall. The water was cold; stinging her fingers like it was made of ice. Behind the curtain of fast-running water she knew that there was a large lake surrounded by mountains and trees.

They'd come that day with the promise of swimming. Amanda was glad that she'd actually packed her swimsuit before leaving Munich. She'd ended up selling at least half her things, maybe more. Most of the outfits that weren't practical had been brought with her because of sentimental value, like her favorite performing dress.

Kurt's expression when she came out wearing her bathing suit had been worth bringing it in the first place. When they'd first arrived she'd been anticipating plunging into the icy waters but Kurt had decided to take her behind the waterfall first. It was a wonderful view and she reached out a little further, getting her whole hand lost in the waterfall.

Kurt pulled her back so she was against him and she laughed.

"You know, if I didn't know better Kurt," she said, "I'd say you just aren't able to keep your hands off me."

He raised an eyebrow before leaning into the shell of her ear. Another one of his hands touched the hollow of her throat, moving up to caress her face.

"I could say ze same zing about you last night liebling."

She blushed and swatted his hand away. Kurt rolled his eyes and got to his feet. He held out a hand to her.

"Ze lake?" he asked.

Amanda nodded and took his hand. A second later she felt herself falling, only to be stopped by the chilly waters. She shivered and her teeth chattered. Kurt was across from her, treading water and smirking at her. Amanda's eyes narrowed as she realized that he didn't appear cold at all.

"Do you have some sort of internal heating device or something?" she asked.

He shook his head and moved behind her. He hugged her close to him and she felt that, despite the water's temperature, he was still warm.

"I am cold only vhen zere ist sudden und huge change of veather," he said.

"What about during the avalanche?" she asked, her voice low.

The memory was still painful and she felt Kurt's lips on her cheek.

"Und zat ist vhy I vas able to be buried so long in ze snow vithout getting hypothermia," he said, "Of course, I still might haf gotten it if it had not been for you."

"You act like I'm some sort of miracle worker," Amanda said.

She turned her head and saw the adoring look that Kurt gave her.

"Not miracle worker liebling," he said, "**Miracle**."

His tone combined with the look in his eyes made heat rush to her stomach. She shook her head and summoned up a shaky smile.

"We're already married," Amanda said, "You don't have to flirt with me all the time you know."

"Mmm, but I like it," he said, "Und it is not mien fault I fell in love."

"Oh?"

"Nein. You trip me."

Amanda pushed away from him, the icy water chilling her limbs again. She gave him a bigger splash and laughed at the surprised look on his face.

"What?" she asked, affecting a look of innocence, "I didn't do it."

His eyes narrowed and he sent water towards her. It enveloped her head but she pushed back. Soon the air was thick with water. Kurt was using his tail too, which she didn't think was fair, but she didn't have much say in it. Amanda pushed forwards again and again until she was practically bombarding him with water.

"I'm just better at this kind of thing, aren't I?" she called over the splashing of the water.

Kurt's eyes narrowed even further. The next thing she knew he'd wrapped his hands around her waist. She had just enough time to splash him again before he teleported. Amanda coughed at the sulphur and felt the thick grass beneath her back. Kurt looked down at her, his golden eyes wide in amusement.

"That's your strategy?" asked Amanda, "Leave when you can't win?"

He shrugged.

"Zis ist vhy teleporters haf not been famous generals," he said.

She smiled and he rolled off her, opting instead to lie beside her. She tucked her head into the crook of his neck and she smiled.

"You must have had a ton of fun here when you were a child," she said.

"Imagine two teleporters in ze lake," he said, "Zey vere very good games of tag, I can tell you zat. Very good. Mien favorite place as a child."

She smiled, imagining a pint size version of Kurt teleporting all across the lake.

"It vill be our kinder's as vell."

Amanda's mind shot up and paid attention at the word 'kinder'. Although she was still a little shaky when it came to her German, she knew that the word 'kinder' meant children. Amanda's eyes grew wide and stared at Kurt. His face turned a shade of purple and he stammered over his next words.

"I mean, vhen you are ready. I mean vhen **ve** are ready," he corrected, "You know, someday. Ve haf only been married for drei months, so later, of course later. I mean, ve are so young und it vould not be gut-"

Amanda put a finger over his lips.

"I get it Kurt, okay?" she asked, "I want kids too, of course I do. And I'm sure they'll love this place."

She thought of the birth control pills that she'd brought with her. They were going to run out one day, but she had the feeling that she'd probably found herself becoming ready before that happened. Amanda wondered what would happen if she took them less or maybe not at all for a while. Of course she didn't want to rush things, they really had only been married for a little bit, but one day she knew she'd be able to take that step.

"But you're right, it has only been three months," said Amanda, "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

She snuggled closer to him.

"Besides," she said, "I'm perfectly happy the way we are now."

His hand grasped hers. Relief practically rolled off him in waves.

"Und I am happy as vell liebling."


	22. Chapter 22

The first few weeks of Amanda's married life were a cloudless sky. It was like a fairytale, a princess coming out to marry her prince in a romantic setting. Azazel seemed to understand and gave the two of them plenty of space. She was happy that he was so supportive of their relationship; she couldn't imagine what it would be like if he wasn't.

For the time being Kurt and she were on an extended honeymoon. He spent his spare time teleporting her around, showing her her new home. In the evenings she'd read and help with dinner. Azazel had finally relinquished cooking duties to Kurt, which her husband told her was a relief that couldn't be underestimated.

As time trickled by reality began to sink in. Kurt and his father were occupied with patrolling the mountains. Amanda took to making sure the house was ready, congratulating herself on figuring out how to use the wood stove and other old-fashioned appliances. She took pride in the fact that she could manage perfectly well without a vacuum cleaner, dish washer, or a washer and dryer. There was something to be said for not being reliant on technology.

After a week or so the pride began to fade. The unsettling idea that she might spend the rest of her life doing this set in. Amanda had never been ambitious; she'd never wanted to become famous or run a business or be rich. Dancing had been fun, but she'd never intended to do it for the rest of her life.

Her mother hadn't expected her to do it either. Her mother had always said that she knew Amanda wasn't going to spend the rest of her life with the circus. Margali was fond of reminding Amanda that she'd raised wanderers for children, adventurers. There were no stay-at-homes in the Sefton household.

With that goal in mind she had had Amanda educated; starting at four instead of five because they'd been touring England at the time. The circus had had a school of its own and Amanda had attended that. Amanda had graduated high school but had never had any real plans for college. The money just wasn't there; it never had been.

So she'd never really had any plans for her future. However, Amanda had never wanted to become a homemaker. Her days were filled with the endless routine of cleaning the house and making sure that everything was in order. Kurt complimented her on it but she was beginning to feel a little lost. Was this the only way she was going to fit in?

Amanda had turned her mind towards gardening. It was something she could do; put food on the table and be able to say that she had done something. However, the garden that Kurt and his father had maintained was closer to harvest than planting. If she wanted to do anything with it she'd have to do it in a few months, by which she was sure she would be driven crazy.

Part of her said she should make these feelings known, look for help. She struggled against this urge and to hide this growing uneasiness from Kurt. If she said the wrong thing then she knew that he would assume that she regretted marrying him. That certainly wasn't true and Amanda didn't want him thinking it was.

She'd tentatively inquired if there were any blackberries in the area. Kurt had gleefully shown her an area where wild blackberries grew in clusters. Amanda joyfully spent the entire day picking them, working until her hands were a light purple and her fingers were sore. She ended up lugging basketfuls back to the house and putting them in the root cellar so they wouldn't go bad.

Amanda had brought some up for dinner and Kurt seemed happy that she was happy. When he and his father left the next day Amanda started making jam. There were plenty of glass jars for preserving things so she used them. By the time Kurt and his father came home she was surrounded by jars and jars of it.

Kurt had looked at her with confusion. Azazel's look had been somewhat more calculating, as though he was looking at a familiar puzzle that he'd forgotten how to put together. Under such scrutiny words began to form in her mind about why she'd felt the need to work compulsively, why she had made so much jam. She wanted to tell Kurt that she felt like she didn't really have a purpose in their new home, that she wanted to somehow contribute to their family but didn't know how.

Instead she shrugged and gave a short laugh.

"I guess I did go a little overboard, didn't I?"

Kurt had laughed but Azazel had continued giving her that strange look. Amanda felt far away in that moment, disconnected from what was happening. She went to sleep that night feeling alone. It wasn't until Kurt joined her, his tail wrapped protectively around her waist, that she felt like she could get to sleep.

The next morning Azazel had teleported her to the monastery. She'd suggested bringing a few jars of the jam there since they really had quite a few. Azazel had been kind enough to teleport her and she disappeared inside. Matthew had been in a meeting so she waited in the hospital wing with Jerome.

She sat down and watched him get his implements ready. Amanda couldn't help but notice how hurried he looked. The hospital wing was grossly understaffed, something she had heard from Matthew, Azazel, and Kurt. The more she watched the more an idea started to form in her head.

Generally when someone was injured they brought them to the monastery. Amanda had been one of the few cases where they hadn't been able to do that because of the storm. Luckily she was only lightly injured. However, from the few medical instances that she had observed both Azazel and Kurt were lacking in certain departments.

"You know," she said, her voice timid, "I could help if you needed it."

Jerome nearly dropped what he was holding. He was a nervous sort of person.

"Are you sure?" he asked, "I mean, I could use help with the sorting today."

"Yes," Amanda said, putting her things down, "If you need help some other time I could come in then too."

His eyes widened.

"Do you have any training?" he asked.

"No," admitted Amanda, "I was wondering…if maybe you could teach me."

Jerome's eyes widened so much that she thought they would pop out of his head.

"Are…are you sure you'd want someone like me to teach you?" he asked.

"Is something wrong with you?" Amanda asked.

"Well…no…it's just…" he fidgeted.

"I'm not asking to find out how to do open heart surgery," Amanda asked reassuringly, "Just set broken bones, take temperatures, maybe stitch a few things. You know, school nurse kind of things."

He continued to look at her blankly.

"Look," Amanda said, fidgeting uncomfortably, "Kurt and Azazel encounter people who are injured every day. Azazel can splint and stitch, but if someone's running a temperature he gets a little lost. Also, the stitches…"

She hesitated, unwilling to talk poorly about her father-in-law. However, it did need to be said if Jerome was going to understand what she wanted.

"He makes really thick ones. I had a gash like that repaired on my inner arm," said Amanda, "It left a slight scar. I know I have steady hands too, so I'd be decent."

Looking more comfortable now that they were talking shop Jerome sat down in a chair opposite with her.

"And your husband?" he asked.

Her heart clenched painfully. She knew what she was going to have to say about what the problem was with Kurt's stitching.

"Kurt's decent with it but…it's not his fault…" she said miserably, "He only has three fingers, see? And the grip…needles were designed for people with five fingers so it's not quite right when he holds it. And he knows it too. So he mostly leaves it to his father."

"I see," said Jerome, "Hm."

She waited while he considered. He got up then and gestured for her to come over. He handed her a jar and she began stacking it with others.

"I can't promise any miracles," he said, "And you're not going to get accredited-"

"I'm not trying to get accredited," Amanda said, "I'm just trying to help my family, and others too when it comes down to it."

A smile ghosted across Jerome's mouth.

"Well then," he said, "that's good. Now, I can't start your training today. What I can do is start in three days though. And you're going to have to get a ride; I can't have you walking twenty miles every day in such changeable weather."

Amanda's heart leapt in excitement. She nearly hugged him until she remembered how badly he reacted to surprises. So she helped him with the shelving and gave Matthew the jam. Amanda noticed his cough and wobbly posture. She'd asked him about it but he'd waved off her concerns, saying it was merely a cold.

Azazel teleported her home and at dinner she shared the news. Kurt looked up in surprise, but Azazel looked like he'd expected it.

"Vatti can teach you zat," said Kurt, confused.

"Nyet, I cannot," Azazel countered.

Kurt blinked at his father.

"What if you or I gets sick?" asked Azazel, "Or both at same time? Nevetska will have to do this herself. She should know. It is good."

"I'm not saying she shouldn't," Kurt argued.

He turned to Amanda.

"I am not saying you shouldn't," he said.

"I understand."

"Then why should she not?" asked Azazel, stabbing his dinner with his fork, "Besides, you do not want to be going stir-crazy."

He gave her a fleeting look and Amanda blinked. For a moment she began to wonder what it must have been like when he first came to the mountains. He was a soldier, and assassin if what Kurt had said was true, who travelled the world and had Bond-esque adventures on a daily basis. And then he restricted his life to a small area, caring for his son, and rescuing travelers.

Perhaps he understood her more than she'd thought.

"I am just…you vill be gone most of day…" Kurt said, sounding miserable.

Amanda shook her head.

"You're gone most of the day you know," said Amanda.

"Ja…but…"

"It's going to be fine Kurt," Amanda said, reaching over and kissing him on the forehead, "It'll be fine."

He'd given her a long look, holding her eyes with his. Then his father snorted from across the table, shattering the moment.

"Save it for bedroom, da?"

Kurt had pulled away, blushing. Amanda had felt her cheeks heat up too, wishing that her father-in-law didn't have to be so blunt. She began her training three days later. Jerome was patient with her, starting out with a few skills that he thought would come in handy. Within her first week she understood how to make simple splints.

After that Jerome showed her how to administer vaccines and shots. She didn't think this was going to be particularly practical, but it was a start. There was an art to using a syringe; especially to finding the vein beforehand. Jerome winced every time that she pointed to his arm and got the location of an appropriate vein for the different vaccinations wrong.

Over time she got better. Matthew usually came in the afternoon with something for them to eat. He always had an encouraging thing to say about her progress. After three weeks, when she demonstrated her ability to apply morphine and deal with a badly broken arm, he'd smiled and nodded at her.

"Kurt has had good judgment in finding a wife," he'd said.

She'd smiled at the compliment but frowned when she saw him limping out of the room.

"Is everything alright with Matthew?" asked Amanda.

"Oh, he's fine," Jerome said, looking down at the table, "He's just…getting older I suppose."

Amanda nodded but felt odd about doing so. The thought was banished when Azazel teleported in to take her home. She'd gone with him and arrived at the house seconds before Kurt teleported at the doorway. Like his father; he wasn't alone. An injured skier was with him, clutching a shattered leg. It needed immediate attention or he was going to get an infection.

A minute passed when Amanda wasn't sure what to do. The minute passed and she bypassed Azazel, heading to the kitchen. Once there she got out the kit that Jerome had given her in case of such an event. She sat down to work, reassuring the frightened skier. Amanda kept up that tone as she cut away his pant leg and splinted the leg, setting it correctly and tying the bandages just tight enough.

Throughout the whole thing she kept thinking of him in a detached way, imagining that she was back in class. The more she thought about it that way the less time she found herself thinking about the fact that he was a person whose bone was outside his body. When she was done Kurt teleported out, returning a few minutes later.

"He vill be fine," Kurt said.

Amanda smiled relieved. Kurt walked behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"You are very talented miene liebling," he said.

She smiled back at him, feeling pride glow inside of her.

"You'll be surprised, the things I can do," Amanda replied.


	23. Chapter 23

_September 8, 1984_

It shouldn't have surprised anyone. At least, that was the way that Matthew felt. It wasn't like he'd told anyone though. The only ones who really knew about his heart murmur, a condition that had gotten increasingly bad as he'd gotten older, were the Abbot and Jerome. Jerome had been the one treating him for it, and the Abbot had had to know when the condition was labeled critical. The valve had torn under the pressure, and they didn't have the medical equipment to treat it. Not in time.

His other health conditions had been building up over time. First his leg had gotten injured; healing strangely so that he was never really the same. His murmur had made it hard to walk as steadily as he'd done in the past, and he'd had an ear condition. His back had begun to give; the price he'd had to pay for living to an old age.

However, he was grateful that these ailments hadn't really impeded him in his work. He was also grateful that, when the time came, he'd been able to have a decent advance on when his life would end. Seven months was plenty of time in his opinion. Anything longer than that and he would have begun fretting.

Matthew felt, overall, he'd put everything in order. His soul felt at peace; this had been a long time in coming after all. It was actually a little ironic when he thought about it. He knew, deep inside him, that he should feel more scared than he was. Perhaps it was only the young who feared death.

He'd finished the last of his ecclesiastical duties for the year. Some of the monks had looked at him strangely when they realized that he was trying to finish everything before his death. They didn't understand; work had been his lot in life as long as he could remember. His father had always told him there was satisfaction in a job well-done. Matthew felt that he would be satisfied if he could get his accounts in order.

Matthew had also made sure to make provisions for the Wagners. He laid back on his pillow, remembering with a smile the day he'd found them. He'd watched Azazel's transformation from a bitter man trying to find balance to a father, albeit one who was quite over-protective. He'd gone from something of a co-worker to a friend.

His son was rather different. Kurt had grown up in front of him, growing taller until he looked down on Matthew. Matthew never forgot the eagerness of his only student to learn, to see the world around him with fresh eyes. As an adult he had tackled his jobs with vigor and relish, a religious young man trying to help the world.

Kurt had even gotten married. It was something Matthew had hoped for him; he hadn't wanted the young man to spend his life alone. Amanda was sent by God, he had no doubts about that. She was a hard-working, determined young woman who loved Kurt just as much as he loved her. He had no worries about the two of them.

There was a slight pang in his heart that he wouldn't be able to see their children. It would have been nice to have been the one to baptize them. He supposed that he would have to delegate that honor to Jerome though. He should be satisfied; he had married Kurt and Amanda. That would have to be enough.

Yes; Jerome. Matthew had thought that he would make a good successor. Most of the other monks who were old enough to be intricately involved with the Wagners might be following him soon. He had needed someone young and responsible to take over the gravity of taking care of a family who, in return, took care of them if they chose to stay.

Jerome had told him that afternoon he had mere hours to live. It hadn't surprised him. The Wagners had been alerted month ago about his worsening condition. All of the family members visited him in turn every day. He was quite touched by this. It made him feel good that he had impacted their lives in such a way.

It was why, in his final hours, they were the ones by his bedside. Jerome was there too to administer last rites. It was a familiar, comfortable setting. The monastery was his home after all, and the men there were truly his brothers. He'd already said goodbye to them all to ensure that his last moments would be with the strange family he'd helped protect.

Matthew had little biological family; a sister with a few children whom he'd never met when they were old enough to remember. He was bequeathing them most of what little money he had. The rest of his possessions went to the Wagners. They had very little need for money since they received board from the monastery. Now that Amanda was with them they were even selling her jam through Jerome. It was quite good; he was glad that she was making it available to the village.

They were old books, a desk, some old-fashioned pens, things like that. He didn't know much of his nieces and nephews. His sister had written every year until she had died in 1979. She had been older than him and, to his understanding, had died a grandmother. In any case, he didn't know if his relatives would appreciate the things he was giving them.

The Wagners would. They were family in a way; his family. The thought made him smile through lips that were cracking. Amanda noticed and got him a cup of water. He drank it gratefully, most of the water spilling down his cheeks and into his beard. He smiled and she smiled back, although her expression looked choked.

"I am…happy that you are all here," he managed.

Kurt gripped Amanda's hand tightly. Across from them Azazel stood, his hands shoved deeply into his pockets. Matthew turned his head to him.

"I am honored that you let me know your family," he said.

Azazel shook his head.

"Nyet," he said, "Honor is all mine, all ours. I have met few good men in my life; of them, you are best."

Matthew managed a smile and coughed.

"Ah, flattery will get you nowhere Azazel," he said.

Azazel shook his head again.

"Nyet flattery if true."

Kurt nodded in agreement with his father.

"Danke for being miene tetcher," he said, "For much. For marrying me."

He gripped Amanda's hand a little more tightly.

"Thank you for helping me," she said quietly.

Matthew managed another dry laugh. His eyelids started to close; he was quite tired. He forced himself to stay awake. What he had to say next was important.

"I have a feeling that perhaps your time at the monastery will be ending soon," he said, "No one will force you to go, but perhaps you may chose to do so."

Azazel cocked his head while the young couple looked at him in confusion.

"From what I hear the world is changing," he said, "I hear that it's aware of and even somewhat accepting of mutants. I always thought, restless souls that you are, that you may not stay here forever."

The room remained silent and Matthew took a minute to collect his thoughts.

"Maybe you can get away and live a life in the open, with more freedom and opportunities," said Matthew, "And I sincerely hope that you do. You and the monastery have been good to each other, but I do not know if you should stay here forever. You deserve the happiness of the world outside these mountains, all of you. No one wants to be caged."

He smiled again and sighed.

"And now, I think perhaps it's time for me to go home," he said, "Or close to it. Jerome?"

The young man nodded and stepped forward. He performed the last rites with confident movements. Matthew was impressed. Jerome could be so nervous, but it seemed that he was iron when he was needed. It was an important thing in a monk, and a vital thing in his successor as the Wagners' guardian. Inwardly he smiled.

There was another hour after this, spent of speaking about everything and nothing. Matthew even managed to get ahold of some of the last wine from Rheingau. It probably wasn't healthy, but there wasn't much more to be worried about in his decision. Then, at ten o'clock he slipped away peacefully to meet his God.

* * *

><p>"Kurt, are you okay?"<p>

Kurt looked up from the edge of his bed at his wife. Her eyes were rimmed with red and she looked worn. Kurt knew she'd been crying, and she had every right to. Still, he couldn't believe that she would pull herself out of that to ask how he was. For that Kurt summoned up a weak smile.

She sat down next to him and cupped his face with her hands. Gently he clasped his over her wrists. They sat together in silence for a few minutes.

"Liebling," he managed, "he vas miene teacher."

"You told me," she said gently.

"I…vhen ve needed somezing he vould find vay to gif it to us," he said, "Und…und he told me…told me…"

"What did he tell you?" asked Amanda.

He looked up into her eyes. Kurt could tell that she was sad for the man who had helped her, even if she'd known him for such a brief time. He also knew that she was sad for the pain that he and his father were experiencing. Kurt tilted his head forwards until it touched hers. He closed his eyes.

"Vhen I vas younger I saw painting in monastery of ze Archangel Michael fighting ze Defil," he said, "It vas very good painting but…I vas young. I had not seen eien painting like zat before. I vas upset, because ze Defil looked like miene vatti und like me. Und Matthew…he saw I vas upset und said…und said…"

Her hands left his face. Amanda gently circled her arms around him so that she was holding him. Kurt kept his eyes closed though.

"What did he say?" she asked.

He felt her tears fall on his face. They joined his own.

"Zat no vone really knows vhat ze Defil looks like," whispered Kurt, "Und zat it vas impossible he looked like me because…because…"

Swallowing hard he clutched her close to him.

"Because I vas far too gut to haf anyzing to do vith ze Defil," he said.

Amanda leaned back, rocking him in her arms. Kurt allowed himself to cry without restriction then, mourning the loss of a teacher and friend.

* * *

><p>Azazel had never been one for friends. He'd never been particularly sociable in the military. He'd known since the first day he'd stepped through those doors that he was going to be used. Anywhere with a hot meal and a roof was an improvement from what he was accoustomed to though. He'd tolerated being around those people since they gave him what he needed.<p>

It was much the same for Shaw. The man had offered him something more enticing than military service; revenge. He could get revenge for what had happened to his father by destroying people like his grandmother and uncle. Azazel had never really liked Shaw even then. He was too interested in his own opinion, expecting everyone to follow him blindly. It reminded him of his former military commanders.

None of the other members of the Hellfire Club were much better. Emma was another person like Shaw, out for herself and everyone else could go to Hell. Shaw was a convenient bed partner for her since they both had similar goals. In juxtaposition Janos was too much of a faithful follower. He'd gotten on decently with Angel since she was neither one nor the other, but they hadn't spent too much time together before they had switched their allegiance to Magneto.

Again, Magneto was more of a leader than a friend. Unlike Shaw though Magneto had earned Azazel's respect. The closest thing that Azazel had had to a friend was Mystique, and she turned into a lover too quickly for it to count. After he'd named Magneto and Angle godparents he felt a little closer to them, but not by much.

He wondered how different his life would have been if, when he first met Matthew, he'd simply cut his throat. It was nothing short of divine intervention that, in contrast to his habit, he'd instead threatened him first. Many times since that day Azazel had had cause to thank God for stilling his hand.

Matthew had helped with everything, a good man in a world that wasn't good. Azazel wondered if people like him existed outside the mountains. Obviously his own father had been such a person, but maybe he had been the last. Maybe the type of man that welcomed everyone had died out with his father, existing only in the Alps.

Part of him really didn't believe that. However, he was eternally grateful to Matthew. The man had offered someone to talk to, even if he didn't talk much. When Kurt was younger Matthew was the only one Azazel could really have conversations with. The other monks tolerated him, but Matthew acted like he was a neighbor.

Having friendship extended when there was no reason for it had been a new concept to Azazel. Azazel held no illusions about himself. He knew that he was quite cruel. However, years as a father had softened him. Matthew had helped him with that, helped him come back to his religious roots and become a good father, even if he did go overboard every now and then.

When Azazel said that it had been an honor to know Matthew he meant it. He'd believed, when taking Kurt from the Brotherhood headquarters, that he'd have no one to rely on but himself. Matthew had been the second pair of hands, his link to the outside world. Beyond that he'd been a friend. There were no words to describe that.

So as he sat down alone on his couch late that night, a glass of vodka in hand, he raised it and said;

"Spaseebo balshoye Matthew. Dasvidanya."

He took a deep swallow and looked at his glass.

"Really does taste like throat invaded by fire ants and need to cough out dust balls," he said.

Azazel let out a choked laugh before downing the rest.


	24. Chapter 24

_April_ _12, 1985_

Amanda had known for a very long time that her life was going to become harder due to her involvement with the Wagners. There were no real conveniences where they lived. Even if they had been able to get ahold of them their mutations made it difficult to interact with too many people. It was why the monastery had acted as their only intermediary before Amanda had married Kurt.

There were no TV's, no microwaves in the Wagner household. The most radical thing they had was a toaster. Despite this knowledge she had come anyway. She had known in advance that if she had married Kurt she was going to have to give up quite a bit. Amanda had reconciled herself to that fact a long time ago and, more or less, she had adjusted.

There were some things that worried her though. The village was far away so if she needed to get to it she'd either have to walk for two days or ask Kurt or Azazel to teleport her. Due to the treacherous nature of the mountains the latter option was the only one that was really available to her.

Such a trip would take seven or eight teleportations in the very least. The sulfur didn't really bother her anymore. Sometimes she still had coughing fits, but other than that she was fine. They still had to take rests, but they were becoming less and less common the more she travelled with her new family.

So it wasn't really the teleportation that made her feel strange. No; the teleportation was something that she'd gotten used to long ago. It was the fact that she was going to have to have Kurt or Azazel nearby when she did anything. There was no such thing as a secret purchase in the Wagner household. It had made Christmas presents especially difficult.

For the pregnancy tests though, Amanda was more than willing to try. If she was wrong than she wanted to make sure that no one knew about her mistake. Kurt had been quite clear about wanting children. He wouldn't get angry at her if it turned out she wasn't; she just didn't want to have him raise his hopes only to have him get disappointed.

She wasn't going to get the tests on a whim though. However, she had missed her period three times. The first she hadn't noticed, but the next two were particularly puzzling. Some people had irregular periods but Amanda wasn't one of them. She also couldn't remember if she'd taken her birth control pill three months ago or not. A group of touristshad taken a disastrous skiing trip in February and they'd been busy for days.

Amanda had no illusions about Brother Jerome. He was a good man and a good doctor but Amanda felt somewhat embarrassed about going to him. She supposed it was the fact that he was also a monk. She was sure that he would try to pin down a date of conception, and it would be rather embarrassing to explain that almost **any** day during that month could have been it.

If it was just an issue of embarrassment than she would have simply gritted her teeth and gotten over it. It wasn't though. Brother Jerome did what he could but the monastery only had a decent medical wing to deal with the injured and sick. It wasn't specialized enough for her. In short; he didn't have the kind of equipment to tell her if she was pregnant or not.

Amanda didn't dare go to a hospital. A real hospital was very far away and, if an ultrasound was taken, that could raise even more questions. She wasn't sure if her child would look like her husband. She didn't mind if the child did, but she didn't relish the suspicions of the staff if the child was missing fingers, had pointed ears, and a tail.

This also brought up the fact that she was going to spend her entire pregnancy without any sort of hint as to what the gender of her child would be. Amanda could get over that. They would just have to get two names ready and paint the nursery a neutral color. Not that there would be any painting going on, but it was the thought that mattered.

Overall she didn't have many options. Disposable pregnancy tests, as she was well aware, weren't always reliable. At the circus a friend of her mother's had gotten one. It had told her that she wasn't pregnant. Several months later the woman welcomed twins into the world. It wasn't absolute; even the doctors could be faulty sometimes.

No matter; it really was the only shot she was going to have at it. So Amanda determined that she was going to buy at least eight tests. If almost all of them said she was pregnant then she'd use that diagnosis. It was going to be an expensive procedure, but Amanda didn't have a better idea other than wait and see if her stomach swelled. Even then she might just have a tumor, an alternative that she didn't want to think about. She preferred to know sooner than that if her first child was coming into the world.

She planned carefully the trip carefully. First off she asked Azazel rather than Kurt to take her to the village. Kurt was more curious than his father. Azazel wouldn't ask questions if he thought she had gotten more items than she'd said. He would probably find a cunning way to get her to reveal it later, but if things went well he'd already have found out. Amanda didn't plan on keeping the news to herself for long if she really was pregnant.

She'd also found some other things that they could use. If she was making a normal supply run than it wouldn't look strange if she went out. The responsibility had been Matthew's for quite some time; now it was hers. It was something else to thank the man who had done so much for her new family for. Most things they could through the monastery's stores, but some things like sugar and milk had to be bought in town.

Azazel teleported her to the outskirts of town and sat down to wait for her. He'd brought a book with him since he got bored easily. His nonchalance was something he and his son didn't share. Kurt generally hopped on one foot before switching to the other while waiting for her. His eagerness was more endearing than it was annoying though, so it was fine.

Amanda bought her normal supplies and then six cheap pregnancy tests. The other two were expensive ones. She thought that she should at least have a decent brand to compare her results to. Amanda needed to be right about the outcome of the tests. Her entire future was going to be impacted by them.

Admittedly it was a strange situation for her, one that she hadn't really envisioned. If anyone had asked her then no, she wouldn't have believed she would be pregnant at eighteen. She wouldn't have thought that she'd be married four days after eighteenth birthday either. However, even if she'd planned out her future minutely then she wouldn't have been able to plan for Kurt. He had changed everything.

Amanda brought her purchases to the counter. The man gave her an odd look at the sheer number of pregnancy tests but rung it up and put the items in a bag. The bag wasn't clear so she figured she had a good shot at getting it past Azazel. Feeling confident, although still rather apprehensive, she walked out of the store with her bags.

Azazel teleported her back to the house. She put everything away, something that she was grateful that Azazel was too busy to try and help with. There would have been no way that he wouldn't have come across all of the tests that way. It was good that Kurt was busy chopping wood outside too. She would never be able to hide it from him.

Amanda was sure that Kurt didn't know what pregnancy tests were. He hadn't even known what the pill was until she'd explained it to him. It wasn't like it was something that he, as a boy living in the mountains, would need to know about. However, he could read. The title of the product was pretty self-explanatory.

When everything else was put away she headed upstairs to the bathroom across from Kurt and her room. It was the one that was used least often since the flush stuck and the water had a tendency to come out gray. Amanda locked the door and stared hard at the first test. It was time to start.

* * *

><p>Dumping the newly cut wood by the door Kurt teleported into the kitchen.<p>

"Vatti?" asked Kurt, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

His father didn't answer him at first, just turned a page. Rolling his eyes Kurt teleported next to him and said loudly;

"Vatti?"

"Da?" asked Azazel, not even looking up from his book.

Kurt shook his head. If he'd done that to anyone else they would have at least jumped. Not his father.

"Haf you seen Amanda?" asked Kurt, turning his head around, "It's just zat I zought zat she vould be outside soon und she vas not."

Azazel snorted.

"Always you are looking for her," Azazel said, "You do not always have to be attached at hip you know."

"Vatti, you are exaggerating."

"I am not."

"You are."

"I am not one married, so I am right," Azazel said, "Besides, I am also one you disturb about it."

Kurt had to admit that he was right. At the same time he wasn't about to concede defeat.

"I just vanted to talk to her about some zings in ze garden," Kurt said indignantly, "I am not trying to-"

"Da, da, da," Azazel said, waving his hand, "Last I see she was upstairs."

"Danke," Kurt said, rolling his eyes.

He teleported to their room. When he found that she wasn't there he teleported into the hallway and looked through some of the guest rooms. She wasn't there either, although he couldn't imagine why she would be there in the first place. Walking to the end of the hallway he knocked on the bathroom door. He knew better than to teleport in there without being certain that it was unoccupied.

"Liebling?" he called.

For a few seconds there was no answer. He figured that she wasn't in there and was just about to leave when he heard a small voice say;

"Kurt?"

"Ah, zere you are," Kurt said, feeling relieved, "I just vanted to ask about ze strawberries you planted. Zey seem to be coming on vell, ja, but I vas zinking zat perhaps ve could do some sort of irrigation."

There was no answer. Kurt frowned.

"Ist everyzing alright liebling?" asked Kurt.

"No…I mean yes! Yes!" Amanda said, her voice slightly high-pitched, "It's just…well…maybe you should…I…"

There was another long silence. Kurt's frown deepened as he waited. At long last the lock slid away. Amanda stood in the doorway, her hair flowing freely down her shoulders. On days where she had lots of work to do she usually put it back into a braid or a ponytail. He rarely saw it like it was currently.

Kurt absolutely loved it when her hair was down. It reminded him of when he'd first seen her. She had been injured at the time, but he hadn't seen that until he was very close. When he was still a few feet away he thought that she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen; an angel. He still did.

Her eyes were teary though and her face was flushed. He cocked his head.

"Ist somezing vrong liebling?" he asked, "You look like perhaps you are ill. Do ve need to go to Jerome?"

She hesitated before shaking her head.

"I don't think this is something that he can help with Kurt," she said,

"Vhat?" asked Kurt, his eyes big.

Her head jerked up.

"No Kurt, I didn't mean it like that-"

"Mien Gott vhat ist vrong?" he asked, "Ist zis like vhat I read in books? You haf consumption? Somezing like zat, ja?"

"Kurt-"

"Zey haf vaccines!" Kurt said, feeling slightly hysterical, "Und penicillin, und antibodies! It vill be fine!"

"Kurt!" Amanda said.

He stopped, trying to still his breathing. She smiled at him and shook her head.

"Kurt, calm down for a minute" she said, "I went down to the town today. And I got a few tests from the store there. And seven out of eight of the tests agree, and this includes the expensive ones-"

"Tests for vhat?" he asked, feeling panicked again.

"Nothing bad," Amanda said, smiling.

She walked up and put her hands around his face.

"Kurt, I'm not sure for how long exactly," she said, "but I just found out that I'm carrying your child."

The world shut down. All noise was abruptly sucked out of the area. His mind flipped over and rewired itself, desperately trying to process the message. Kurt felt his eyes widen again and his mouth drop open slightly. Words got stuck onto his tongue, unable to be said. Finally he managed a shaky;

"Vhat?"

"I'm pregnant Kurt," Amanda said smilingly, stroking the side of his face, "We're going to have a baby."

"Pregnant," he repeated, "Pregnant."

Slowly his arms circled around her back and held her to him.

"Pregnant," he said again, breathing out slowly.

"Pregnant," she agreed.

Tears gathered and he closed his eyes, nuzzling his face into her hair.

"Oh liebling," he said, "You truly are miracle."


	25. Chapter 25

Kurt stood in the doorway and looked into the kitchen. His father was sitting at the table, sipping at a cup of coffee. He took a deep breath and looked over at Amanda. She gave him a bright smile and clasped his hand. Kurt nodded and walked into the room, his steps unsteady. When he was inside the room he said;

"Vatti? Do you haf minute?"

"Of course," Azazel said, putting down his coffee gesturing to the seat at the table opposite of him, "Have seat."

Kurt swallowed and did so across from him. Amanda sat next to him, clasping his hand reassuringly. He wasn't sure just why he felt so nervous. This was good news, news that had to be shared. Yet, he was still nervous and the fact that he felt it at all had his heart doing flips in his chest.

"We need more coffee," Azazel said, "Coffee is fuel of life. Do nyet forget it."

"Vhatever vatti,"sighed Kurt.

"What do you mean whatever?" asked Azazel.

Amanda smiled.

"It's just that yesterday you said wine was the fuel of life," Amanda said.

His father tilted his head, considering his words.

"Da, it is too. They can both be fuel of life," he said.

"You contradict yourself vatti," Kurt sighed.

"Perhaps, perhaps," shrugged Azazel carelessly, "But I do not think you come to table to criticize father."

"Oh, nein, nein," Kurt said.

He swallowed and looked down.

"I haf been talking to Amanda-"

"Really?" asked Azazel, his eyes wide in mock-surprise, "I would have never guessed. It is last thing I would have thought. The two of you never do **anything** together."

Amanda gave another smile. Kurt wondered if it was her way with dealing with the nerves. His father's words just made him exasperated though.

"Vatti," Kurt said.

Azazel laughed and took another sip of coffee.

"Come come Kurt," he said, "Usually you would laugh. Usually you might have made joke yourself."

His father was right. Kurt ran a three-fingered hand through his hair. Azazel frowned and tilted his head.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"Oh…I…vell…"

Azazel's eyebrows shot up as Amanda put a hand on his arm

"Did something happen to brother Amanda?" asked Azazel, "Brother or perhaps friends in circus?"

"Oh, no, no," Amanda said, "Nothing like that."

"That is good to hear," said Azazel, "I would not want anything to happen to family, even if brother is idiot."

"Um-" Kurt said.

"I know you are thinking that was not friendly," Azazel said, "And it was not. But if they are your family Amanda, that makes them ours."

Kurt blinked at him, his mouth open slightly. He'd never heard quite this type of tangent from his father before. Family had always been pretty straightforward when Azazel talked about it. He could see that Amanda was taking it in stride, but to some degree Kurt really couldn't believe it. How long had his father felt this way exactly?

"Well, family in way," said Azazel, "Perhaps not family that send Christmas cards, it would make funny photo anyway."

He gave Amanda a meaningful look. Azazel hadn't liked the fact that Amanda had brought an instant camera with her. He'd disliked it even more when she'd taken a handful of pictures with herself and Kurt. However, he had conceded her that since she'd started up a family photo album. Kurt was glad that it hadn't been a big deal.

Azazel closed his eyes and finished his cup of coffee. Amanda looked over at Kurt and gripped his hand tightly. He nodded. They had to do it now before the conversation got distracted again. Heaven knew that he was already nervous about what he was doing. If they put it off for too long he would chicken out entirely.

"Vatti," Kurt said, "Ve haf big announcement to make."

Azazel tilted his head politely but smirked.

"I wondered when you would finally tell," he said, "Now, what is it?"

Kurt took a deep breath.

"I am going to be vatti myself."

His father's eyes grew big and he dropped the coffee mug onto the table. It landed hard but didn't break. Kurt swallowed and continued.

"Amanda hast told me zat she is few veeks along, ja?"

"More like three months," Amanda said, "It shouldn't start showing for another month or two, but I used a lot of tests. It's a pretty definite thing."

Kurt nodded and breathed deeply.

"I vanted you to know zat you vould be grandfather."

There was a long pause and Kurt cleared his throat.

"Vatti, vhat do you zink of zis?"

Azazel stared at him, his mouth slightly open and his face frozen. In that moment Kurt would have given anything to know what he was thinking. 

* * *

><p>Azazel felt his eyes glaze over in shock. How had it come to this? How had it ever come to this? Had it really been twenty-one years ago that he'd held a baby in his arms, delicate and vulnerable to everything around him? And now, that same baby was grown up and having children of his own.<p>

In the back of his mind Azazel could still remember the day that his son had been born. After the panic and confusion of the hospital he'd teleported them back to the Brotherhood main headquarters. It had been his longest teleportation yet, but he hadn't dared to make more than one jump. Mystique and Kurt were so delicate, Kurt the most delicate at all.

Mystique wasn't walking on her feet when they arrived. Azazel had had to carry her while she'd wrapped her arms around Kurt. Luckily Magneto and Angel had been there to help. Emma and Janos had cleared the area rather tidily. Janos was never one for babies and Emma simply didn't do domestic.

It hadn't surprised him that Angel would be interested in the new arrival. He hadn't known the reason for it until much later though. Angel had apparently had a baby sister at one point. The child had died of a small childhood malady at four months and Angel had left the grave behind when she'd run away from home.

Throughout their time as members of the Brotherhood he'd seen clues that she had a particular fondness for children; babies especially. She had been on hand during Mystique's pregnancy, reassuring the mother-to-be. Angel had been promised the title of godmother and she'd burst into tears when it was first offered. It was a title that she would take seriously, letting herself die to protect their child.

That was far in the future though. On the night Kurt had been born she'd been there to help the small family, although they knew that Mystique only needed rest. The birth had been normal except for the part where the doctors had tried to turn on the infant. While Azazel took Mystique to their rooms to rest from her ordeal Angel had held the squalling infant and whispered songs to him.

Azazel himself had been emotionally drained. After seeing to Mystique he'd stumbled down the stairs, having the vague idea that as a father he should be with his son. He'd fallen down on the couch, his body shaking from the exertion of long distance teleportation with others after nearly seeing his baby son murdered.

Magneto had noticed that something had gone wrong as soon as they walked through the door. He'd respectfully stood aside as Mystique and Kurt were tended to though. Once Azazel was settled Magneto asked what had happened. He listened quietly to the tale and then brushed it aside like it didn't matter.

"Humans will always be like that," Magneto said, "it happens every day. But it is not every day that one of our own becomes a parent. Since his mother is too exhausted to come down here, then I believe we should toast the boy's father."

Azazel had given him a shaky look.

"Forget it Azazel," said Magneto kindly, "Think only of your son and the happiness you feel at his birth. He's a healthy and safe now."

Weakly Azazel had nodded. Magneto had poured him a glass of vodka, the good stuff from Moscow. He'd felt relieved for having it there. In the end Azazel had drunk two glasses with Magneto's quiet congratulations. Even Angel, who disliked drinking for the memories it brought, had a glass.

Two days later Magneto would take him back to the hospital where, together, they would hunt down the doctors who had nearly destroyed his family. Mystique had wanted to come too, but she was still too weak. No one was killed; he hadn't wanted to start his son's life in bloodshed. However, they would never be able to do thier jobs again once they were done with them.

However, it wasn't until a day before Kurt's christening that Azazel had asked Magneto to be his godfather. He'd seen the man's eyes soften as he accepted the title. There were no tears like Angel had shed, no loud proclamations of devotion. However, he could see that all his emotion was deeply soaked in his eyes.

Often times Azazel had wondered if the man regretted not having a family of his own. He and Xavier were far too devoted to their cause, it would seem, to have a family. In many ways Azazel pitied them. They could have been devoted **and** have had children, but Azazel knew better than anyone the sacrifices that would have to be made to be a parent.

That night though, that night was peaceful. The violence was behind them with Mystique's screams during the birth. No sacrifices had been made, not yet. When Azazel had finished with his drinks Angel had quietly walked up. She'd put a now-sleeping Kurt into his arms. Azazel had stroked the few hairs on his head, letting his hands trace his pointed ears in reverence.

"He's a perfect mix of the two of you," Angel had proclaimed.

He'd been inclined to agree with her. Azazel believed that, in that moment, he'd never seen anything more perfect than his son. Kurt was a promise of a future; not a perfect future, but a future. To Azazel, to whom every day had been a struggle when he was younger, that promise was nothing short of a miracle.

Who was he to be given a son after all? Azazel had never really had a future. He was the boy whose family had rejected him, seeing the only man he respected in his childhood murdered. Azazel was the child soldier, a strange creature whose masters saw him as a rabid dog to sic on their enemies. Even Shaw had seen him as a soldier and a killer, nothing more.

It was only with the Brotherhood that he'd seen that he was more than that. Azazel had become a lover as well as a fighter. Now he had a son, his crowning glory. Kurt was his future. No matter what he was going to have a son. Azazel wasn't going to let anyone take this perfect promise of the future form him.

He'd take that memory of perfection and promises with him when he gently took him from a dying Angel's arms. It was that perfection, that promise that had made him leave the same Brotherhood that had allowed him to have Kurt. Magneto had understood while Emma and Janos had scoffed at him. It really was too bad that Magneto hadn't had children. Azazel could see that he would have been a decent parent.

With that small child he'd run from city to city before settling in a weather-beaten corner of the Alps. It wasn't the life that Azazel had wanted for his child, but he knew that the one he really wanted was out of reach. Their life would have to do as a distant second to his dream that his son would be able to walk down a street unencumbered.

Then his son had married a woman he obviously loved dearly. Amanda would stay with him; she wasn't like Mystique, burdened by what she thought she should do rather than what she **felt** she should do. Now the two of them were going to have a child together. Then he would be a grandfather. This was the future he'd been promised; it had come.

In that moment he felt a burst of pity for a woman he'd regarded with bitterness for so many years. After all, Mystique was never going to be a grandmother just like she'd never been a mother. She'd forfeited that role and instead traded it for a position in the Brotherhood fighting an endless war. She had never been there for Kurt's childhood and she wouldn't be there for her grandchild's either.

Azazel knew that, without a doubt, he'd made the right choice when he'd picked his son. Of course he had. He was going to have the family that he never thought possible, the miracle. It was all his. His son truly was the gift that kept on giving. The promise of a future was being renewed by him and would continue to be renewed.

Setting his coffee mug upright he looked up at Kurt and Amanda. He let his expression soften and he smiled.

"Syn, nevetska," he said, "That sounds yzumitelno."

Their faces lit up, and the future began.


	26. Chapter 26

_May 19, 1985_

"I will be honest," Azazel said, "I did nyet think this would be used again."

"Is that vhy it ist in such bad shape?" grunted Kurt.

He turned the cradle on its side. Several screws were loose and the wood was chipping. The task of getting it ready for his child seemed daunting.

"Ah, do nyet be so pessimistic," said Azazel, dropping down across from him, "That is my job."

His tail flickered out and snatched the screwdriver from the toolbox Kurt had brought with him.

"I vanted zis to be done today," Kurt sighed, "As surprise. For Amanda."

"Ah, we have hours before I go to fetch from monastery," said Azazel dismissively, "It is nyet big deal."

"Hmph, zis vill take two days. She vill make seferal trips to monastery in zat time."

"It will take ten minutes," said Azazel, rolling his eyes.

Kurt sighed and began sanding down the rough parts of the wood. He didn't want his child to get any splinters in their bed. He'd patch up the white paint soon. Kurt liked the fact that it was white. White was a good neutral color. Considering that their child's gender would be a secret from them until their birth neutral was the way to go.

"So, any reason for rush?" asked Azazel, finishing with the screws, "Baby takes nine months you know."

"Ja, vell, I vant to do somezing," Kurt said, "Amanda ist…I just vish I could help her more."

Azazel nodded. Over the course of the last month they'd both seen Amanda's stomach begin to expand. With that came morning sickness and dizzy spells. She often got headaches and had to sit down for a bit. Even teleporting was making her stomach upset. Through it all she insisted on continuing her training at the monastery.

"It ist just efery night she comes back tired, "Kurt said gloomily, "Und I vorry about ze strain it ist putting on her."

With another sigh Kurt got the white paint out and began to cover up the chipped patches. It made it look much better.

"Kurt…I worry too," said Azazel, "But Amanda is nyet going to put baby in danger. She loves that baby, and has not even met it yet. And for strain…"

He hesitated before shrugging.

"When your mother was four month pregnant she infiltrated military base and fought way out," he said dryly, "In defense, and this is only time I will utter those words, she did nyet know. I do not think small walk and training will hurt."

Kurt blinked. His father rarely had anything positive to say about his mother, when indeed he did talk about her. At twenty-one years old Kurt still didn't know his mother's name.

"I am finish," said Azazel, "Will withstand hurricane. Good thing; considering it is my grandchild and your child. You were crawling up walls at two years."

"I hope mien kind vill not do zat," said Kurt.

"You do not have choice in matter," Azazel said, "But…"

Azazel gave Kurt a crooked smile that spoke of nostalgia and anticipation.

"It will be nice to have baby in house again," he said, "Noisy and chaotic, but nice. Feels like such long time."

He got up and stretched.

"I will pick up Amanda in few hours," he said, "You finish here, da?"

"Ja," Kurt said.

His father left the room. Kurt watched him go. His father had been nothing but supportive when he heard that the baby was coming. He'd heavily resented his earlier interference with Amanda, but he was glad that his father had not only reconciled himself to her but seemed to like her. And now he was excited to see that his grandchild was about to come into the world.

A thought formed in Kurt's head as he wet the paintbrush and continued. Soon he was determined to voice it and see if Amanda agreed. The painting only cemented his idea. By the time he was done the cradle looked almost as good as new. He turned it onto its legs and rocked it. Cocking his head he teleported away and fetched bedding from the linen cupboard. When he finished he stepped back and rocked it again.

It really was perfect. He could imagine laying his first child in it, rocking them to sleep and watching their tiny eyes close. Kurt didn't have too many illusions; he was also aware that in the dark hours of the morning he would also be taking the baby out of it to get them to stop crying. He had a feeling that he was going to relish it in some respect. At least it meant that he was going to be a father.

Kurt teleported it into their room. He waited until Amanda got home eagerly, wanting to see her reaction. Upon her arrival he immediately put his hands over her eyes.

"I haf surprise," he said.

"Oh really?" asked Amanda, "What is it?"

"It is surprise," he said, "Now, do you mind if I teleport?"

Her answer came after a few seconds.

"I'm still feeling a little topsy-turvy from my last session," she confessed, "Can you just guide me up there?"

"Alright," Kurt conceded, "but you vill haf to haf mien hands ofer your eyes. It vill not do to spoil surprise."

"I guess it wouldn't," she said ruefully.

Grinning Kurt guided her up the stairs to their room. He opened the door and maneuvered her so she was right in front of the cradle.

"Alright," he said, removing his hands, "Open eyes."

She did so and gasped. Her features lit up as she ran her hands on the railing of the cradle, taking in its smooth paint and rearranged bedding.

"It vas mien vhen I vas younger," he said, "I zhought zat I vould make it ready for our kind now."

"It's perfect," Amanda said,

She turned and wrapped her hands around his neck. Kurt felt her lips on his and held her to him. After a few minutes she turned around in his arms and looked down at the cradle. He kissed her neck and rested his chin on her shoulder. Almost absently he moved his hands so they touched her swollen stomach.

"Four months," he said.

"Four months," Amanda agreed proudly, "They aren't kicking yet, but that's supposed to be normal. I don't suppose I'll get a moment's sleep when the baby starts. They won't be able to stay still. I'm afraid that they'll be too much like their daddy."

Kurt laughed.

"Mien vatti said same zing few hours ago," he said.

"Your father knows all too well the behaviors you'll pass on," Amanda said, "I'll have to be the voice of reason."

"Ah, ze vorld ist in danger!"

"Oh shut up," she said, smacking his arm playfully.

He grinned and kissed the side of her head. They stood in silence for a few minutes before Kurt took a deep breath. It was time to voice his idea.

"Liebling, vhat do you zink ve should name?" he asked.

She tilted her head at him, looking surprised and then thoughtful. He waited until she shrugged and said;

"I haven't really thought about it. You'd think that I would; you'd think that it would be the first thing I'd think about. But I haven't."

"I suppose zat zat ist gut," Kurt said.

Amanda turned her head and frowned. Kurt felt like he'd just put his foot in his mouth, but he wasn't sure there was any other way to voice that last comment. Of course, in light of that, he probably should have kept it to himself. It wasn't exactly the smoothest way to transition for his suggestion.

"Why is that?" she asked.

Kurt hesitated. It was too late now. He would have to explain or she would become angry, and not without reason.

"I vas zinking…ve name ze baby after mien vatti."

She stopped and looked at him. Kurt turned his head away, feeling embarrassed.

"You want to name the baby Azazel?" asked Amanda.

He winced. Her tone wasn't exactly dismissive or irritated, just vaguely curious.

"Nein. His real name ist not Azazel you know," he said, "His vatti, mien opa vould not do zat. Zat vas name he got during var, code name. Real name…he told me real name vonce. It is Cereno."

For a few seconds she didn't say anything.

"Isn't that an Italian name?" she finally said.

Kurt winced again. He was glad that Azazel wasn't in the room to hear that. He would have gone insane.

"Nein," said Kurt, "It ist Latin name. Und I vas zinking zat, if it vas ein girl, zen ve could name baby Cerise."

"Oh," Amanda said, "Like a girl version of the name. I see."

Kurt readjusted his arms on her. He felt awkward, nervous. Kurt wished he could see her face, but not unless he turned her around.

"I zought, it vas first child, it vould be…vell, you know," he said, "It vould be honor for him. He ist very excited about grandchild. Und you could pick middle name if you vant to. But ve do not haf to if you do not vant to-"

"No, no," Amanda said hurriedly, "Those are good names. Of course, I think the baby will be a girl so we might end up having to use Cerise."

Kurt let out a sigh of relief. Suddenly he frowned.

"Vhy do you zink baby vill be girl?" he asked.

She turned so her hands were resting on his chest.

"Because I think the baby knows that I'm outnumbered," she teased, "I think they'd like to even the playing field a bit."

Kurt snorted and shook his head.

"Hah, you act like ve are in var," he said.

She rolled her eyes and put her hand over his on her stomach.

"If ve are going to name child after mien vatti," Kurt said, "I vould like zis to be, vell, ein surprise."  
>"Okay, I can do that," said Amanda.<p>

"But I vas also zinking," Kurt said, "Cereno und Cerise are long names. Baby vill be small so I zought ve could use nickname."

Amanda tilted her head, allowing her hair to brush against his face. He loved it when she did that.

"Do you just dream this stuff up, think about it randomly?" asked Amanda, "Do you ever shut your head off?"

She poked him in the forehead.

"Nein, I haf been zinking for a vhile," he said.

"Okay, okay," Amanda said, "What do you think the nickname should be?"

He took a deep breath.

"I zink nickname should be Blue."

Amanda stared at him for a second before bursting out into laughter. He waited patiently until her laughter subsided.

"Blue?" she asked.

"Vell, ve know zat ze baby vill look like zat," Kurt said indignantly, "Good chance anyvay. Besides, like Baby Blue or somezing."

"You really want the baby's nickname to be Blue?" asked Amanda, "It's cute, I'll admit, but what if the baby's green or-"

"Ve vill cross bridge vhen come to it," Kurt said.

"I don't think we will," said Amanda.

She leaned her head so she was whispering in his ear.

"Do you know what I think our daughter will look like?"

"Nein," he grinned, "Do tell."

"She's going to have your hair for starters," Amanda said, her breath warming his ear, "jet black. But it's going to be thick like mine. She's going to have a lighter version of your skin; maybe a little smoother too. And I think she's going to have my eyes. Everything about her is going to be blue and black, except those eyes. Those will be blue-green. Close to blue, but not quite. That's what I think that Blue, that Cerise, is going to look like."

He closed his eyes and, for a moment, he got a clear picture. Then he opened his eyes again and grinned.

"Now who ist zinking about zis all day?" he asked.

Amanda pulled away and cocked her head arrogantly.

"I think I just have a much better imagination," said Amanda, "But I think it will work. Besides, it gives me something to call this other than baby."

Her hands moved to her stomach. Kurt's joined her there and he smiled.

"Blue," he said. 

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **It seems like Nightcrawler is destined to have daughters. In three different dimensions/futures he's had children that I'm aware of. Put them all together you get five children, and only one of them was a boy. The daughter that Amanda is pregant with is a mixture of two of his possible daughters. He has a daughter named Cerise in one dimension. I chose that name because the other daughter's name is actually Blue, but I think that was a nickname. The baby is more heavily based on Blue though, borrowing only the name from Cerise. After all, in the 'Days of Future Past' plot arc that Blue is from she's the daughter of Kurt and Amanda. _


	27. Chapter 27

_June_ _1, 1985_

Amanda shifted and rolled over. The procedure was easier said than done due to the fact that Kurt had his arm over her shoulders. Her stomach was also getting in the way. She winced, stopping her motion mid-way. Next to her Kurt lazily opened one eye at her movements. He held her tighter to him.

"I need to get up," she yawned.

"Nein, you do not."

"Kurt," Amanda sighed, "Just because you have to spend all day in bed doesn't mean I can afford to."

"You make zis sound like it is good thing," Kurt said, "But-"

He stopped abruptly and turned his head to sneeze. For the past few days he'd had a worsening cold. He'd grumpily agreed to bed rest, jealously looking on as the rest of his family continued on in perfect health. Amanda had never been prone to colds and she doubted that even if Azazel was sick he wouldn't show it.

She'd gotten a few medications for him as it progressed. Jerome had been very helpful in that facility, as well as advising Amanda on a few things she could do about her pregnancy. By the end of the day he was drowsy from all the side-effects. He'd be dealing with the kickback from that for quite some time.

He turned back. Amanda reached by the bedside and took a few of the pills from the bottle there.

"Kurt, take some of these."

She put the pills in his hand and he dry-swallowed them. Kurt made a face as they went down, giving her a reproachful look.

"You are such a baby," Amanda said.

Her husband cocked his head to the side. Almost experimentally he ran a hand over her slightly swelled stomach.

"Only baby here is Blue," he said.

Amanda rolled her eyes. Kurt rested his head so it was right behind her head, his breath on her neck causing shivers down her spine.

"How old?" he whispered.

"Five months," she said, "Just like yesterday."

"Ist it not six yet?"

"No," said Amanda, "but I've just woken up. So if you wait for another few minutes, Blue should be waking up too."

Just as she finished speaking the baby kicked. It aggravated, but didn't quite kick-start her morning sickness.

"You vere right," said Kurt, "Blue vill nefer be able to stay still."

"Too much of you."

"And in me zere is too much of mien vatti," he said.

"Right," said Amanda, "And if you want your father to get any help at all this morning then I have to get up right now."

"Aww."

"No Kurt, it really is time for me to get up."

She gently untangled herself from him. He pushed his lip forward in a pout and she kissed him on the forehead.

"I'll be up in a few hours," Amanda said, "Okay?"

"Okay," he said grumpily.

Amanda smiled and left the room. When she reached the first floor she stopped to throw up. She had to stop for a few minutes after that, feeling light-headed. The feeling returned to her feet and she walked into the kitchen and started getting things ready. Azazel had been gone for the past few days on a hunting trip.

Sometimes Kurt went with him, but never on trips longer than a day. Although it was unspoken she knew he didn't like leaving her by herself, especially now that she was pregnant. This time Azazel had gone alone. Kurt's cold was worsening and he'd said that Kurt was going to scare away all the game with his sneezing. He was supposed to be back that day.

Before her pregnancy Amanda had helped butcher and preserve whatever was brought back. The first time they had tried that after she'd tested positive she'd barely made it to the bathroom in time to throw up. After that she'd had a pass on helping with that and went outside where the smell couldn't reach her.

Instead she was just setting out the necessary implements. It would save time if Azazel didn't have to do it himself. Kurt had shown her how to do it and, despite her pregnancy, she was glad that she was still helping out. Amanda wasn't going to be the weak link in the family chain. She had around four more months left in her pregnancy and she wasn't going to spend them sitting around in boredom.

Amanda yawned and looked at the table. The only thing missing was the meat grinder. Giving another yawn she opened the door and walked outside. They kept the meat grinder in the shed, mostly because it smelt horrible afterwards. Even as she was holding it she could barely manage to get past the smell and get it onto the table.

Rubbing her eyes she went back to go into the living room. She could read and relax a little before going up and getting dressed. Her hand went to open the doorknob and she paused. Had she closed the door? She couldn't remember. Amanda usually didn't close the doors behind her between the different rooms; most of them were kept open to make teleportation easier. Furrowing her brow she opened the door quietly.

At first she thought then she was just being paranoid. A minute later her heart stopped as she saw a man standing in the middle of the living room, turned away from her. Camouflage paint smeared his face and neck. The camouflage clothes were unfamiliar but the fact that he was wearing those clothes at all was worrying. Her eyes focused in on the gun in his hands and the way he kept one hand up to his earpiece.

When feeling returned to her she knew what she had to do. Slowly she breathed out. Her bare feet moved across the rug as silently as possible. Still trying to be quiet she picked up one of the table lamps and crept closer. He turned around just as she raised the lamp and smashed it over his head. He fell to the floor and Amanda jumped over him, running upstairs to where Kurt was. She couldn't run very fast so far along in her pregnancy, but she wasn't thinking of that. This was bad; they needed to get out of there.

Amanda flung the door open and saw three more men in the same uniform as the first staring at her. Kurt had what looked like a tranquilizer in his chest, his eyes were becoming cloudy. They focused in on her as she surged forward, having absolutely no idea what she was going to do.

Arms grabbed her from behind, pulling her back. She struggled but another set of arms pulled her back even further.

"Kurt!" she yelled.

She swore that she saw his lips form her name before his head rolled forward.

"Our intel's shot to shit," one of the men said, "Said there was only one mutie up here, nuthin' 'bout one that's knocked-up."

"Bad funding," shrugged another.

She pulled herself up against her captors. Using the leverage lashed out and kicked one of the men in the chin. He staggered back and Amanda felt a stinging blow across her face.

"Mutie bitch," the man snarled.

"Maybe this one isn't a mutie," another theorized, "She hasn't tried to laser vision us or anything like that."

Another man grabbed a chunk of her hair, pulling her head back. She glared at him before darting her eyes over to where two of the men had pulled Kurt to his feet.

"You related to him or something?" asked the man.

She shot another glare at him and managed to get enough saliva into her dry mouth to spit. He recoiled before she received another blow to her face.

"Maybe her mutation is being irritating as hell," another man snickered.

"Doesn't matter," one said, "Orders never said anything about her being here."

"Oh, I'm sure we'll be able to figure out something," one said nastily, "Shame to cut up a pretty face like that, but I could use some practice."

Amanda pushed forwards again, her eyes fixed on her husband. When she was jerked backwards, this time out of the room, she screamed out his name again. In return she received another blow. This one nearly brought her to the floor, the men pulling her up while she fell. At the last minute she thought desperately of Blue and made it so that she gripped thier arms so she stopped her fall. The pain was greater, but at least Blue wouldn't be harmed.

The men pulled her down the stairs. Amanda didn't want to cooperate but she kept thinking of the almost-fall and Blue. The two with Kurt followed close behind. Her arms reached out, fighting, as they dragged him out the back door. She began fighting again as the sound of a car started up in the distance. Again she got hit, only this time she was dropped onto the couch. Two of the remaining men's guns were trained on her while another went over to the man she'd dropped with the lamp.

"He okay?" one said.

"His pride's gonna be in shambles, but he's okay," the man replied, "Shit, I ain't never gonna stop teasing him about gettin' knocked out by some pregnant teenager."

"Alright," the first one said.

He leveled the gun at her forehead.

"I want you to cooperate with us right now so we don't have to blow your brains out slut," he said, "And if you care about that little abomination growing in you you'll answer pretty damn quick."

She stared at the gun, her mind in a jumble. Amanda thought desperately of Kurt, of where they were taking him and what they were doing. Instinctively she put her hands over her stomach in protection of their unborn child. The living nightmare she was in swirled around her and she hugged herself tightly, realizing that there was no way she could fight back without getting shot.

"Now," he said, "first I'd like to ask who are you and what you're doing here. You're an anomaly, and we don't like anomalies."

She bit her lip, her fingernails digging into the flesh of her arms.

"Answer me!"

A black puff of smoke appeared to his left, one of the men disappearing. The man's eyes turned and Amanda felt her own gaze shift. The man reappeared, thrown into the wall with a massive wound where his heart was. As though in slow motion blood dripped from his chest onto the floor, Amanda seeing each drop.

Time sped up. The first man turned just in time to have a red tail curl around his throat. The spade dragged itself across his throat, ripping it open. Blood splattered onto her as there was another puff of smoke. Seeing that the man who was threatening her was gone Amanda got behind the couch, knowing it was pitiful protection but it was better than being out in the open.

The man by the man she'd knocked unconscious started firing wildly around him. Amanda was grateful that she'd gotten behind the couch now. She ducked, putting her hands over her head and thinking of Blue. The shots died and Amanda peered over the edge of the couch.

She saw that the man had gotten a tail through his eye. He fell to the ground just as the man he'd been tending to got up, rubbing his head and looking disoriented. Amanda stayed behind the couch, watching him look at the bodies. Seconds later Azazel appeared next to him and grabbed him by his lapels.

He slammed the man into the wall before throwing him on the coffee table. The man dropped his gun and stared at Azazel in a mixture of shock and disgust. With a snarl Azazel hoisted him into the air. Amanda got up from behind the couch slowly, the world around her appearing through a fuzzy film.

"Nevetska," he said without looking at her, "what happened?"

For the first time Amanda realized her limbs were trembling. Tears welled in her eyes.

"They took Kurt," she managed, "I tried…there were tranquilizers…I don't know where they took him…"

A deadly rage came over Azazel's face. He shook the man, slamming his head against the wall, hard.

"Who are you?" he screamed.

The man blinked at him, obviously terrified. His mouth opened silently once or twice. Azazel slammed him into a wall, making the man cry out.

"I will nyet ask again!"

"Mu…Mu…Mutant Response Division," the man stuttered, "Contracted…I…I don't know anything else! We were just-"

"I will tell what 'just' did! You invaded my home!" Azazel howled, "You took my syn, and you think that this is **just**?"

With a twist of his hands he snapped the man's neck. He dropped the body to the ground. Seconds later he crouched by it. Azazel tore the man's earpiece off, taking a piece of the ear with it. He flicked the ear away checking to make sure it was on. His lips curled he brought the microphone of the earpiece to his lips.

"Whoever you are," he snarled, "you have woken Devil. And I am bringing Hell with me."

He threw the earpiece down, smashing it with his foot. He looked over at Amanda.

"It is nyet safe here," he said, "Nyet anymore. We must go."

He held out a blood-stained hand to her. Trembling Amanda took it, feeling her world crumble out from under her.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **Dear readers, welcome to X-2. _


	28. Chapter 28

_July_ _13, 1985_

Azazel had never had any illusions about what he was. He knew that he was a murderer; that the blood of countless people soaked his hands. It was troubling because Azazel didn't find it troubling. He'd had discussions with Matthew about whether or not his actions had been, in and of themselves, wrong.

Matthew had been a good listener, one of the many reasons he missed him after his death. Of course he didn't approve of Azazel's killing, but he pointed out that Azazel didn't feel any guilt because he wasn't exactly a murderer. The term assassin had been used to describe his occupation for a long time, but Matthew was the first one to point out that he had never been an assassin either.

He'd been a soldier. His first kill had been in self-defense when he was a child. Azazel hadn't started the fight and he'd killed the man more by accident than anything else. Every other kill had been him doing what he felt had needed to be done. If you saw someone charging at you with a gun, someone whose army was coming to destroy your home, then you killed them and lessened the threat by one.

Azazel had never felt any enjoyment over his kills. The most he'd ever felt was a detached sentiment of a completed job. Sometimes the kills were more violent than usual if his emotions were running wild. However, he hadn't taken any pleasure even from killing the men who had killed Angel. They had given him a job to do when they had threatened his family; he couldn't let them repeat that threat. It was as simple as that.

Matthew had explained that, as there were reasons for what he'd done, Azazel had never felt any guilt about his actions. However, Azazel was very good at killing. When Kurt had been born he'd switched that skill to killing animals in the woods for food. Over time he'd imagined that he was losing his skills; that killing animals was easier than killing humans. He'd imagined that he was growing soft and he'd allowed it.

He wasn't. Perhaps it was because of how much time had passed between killing his last human to his first animal that he'd imagined their difference. The truth was that, in many cases, it was actually harder to kill an animal than it was to kill a human. Since there was no emotional attachment either way his feelings didn't come into it. He always used his knives, since he knew a gun would scare his pray.

Rabbits were faster than humans; they were harder to catch. Bears were stronger than humans; they were harder to take down. The same went with moose and elk. If there was no gun to keep a barrier of separation than you often found yourself in a fight. Azazel had relished his prowess, but even killing animals gave him no enjoyment. It was a job well done; he had to get food somehow and guns were expensive.

When he'd seen the soldiers threatening Amanda he'd been angry, yes. He'd become even angrier when he learned that they had taken his son. The killing had had no malice though. If Azazel had been truly angry then he would have kept the soldiers alive. He'd learned ways to make someone scream. That would have brought him satisfaction.

However, the soldiers were just pawns. He gave Amanda leave to pick up a few possessions, things that she thought they would need or she couldn't do without. Azazel had packed up his swords. In the time to come he was going to have to fight for his son. He didn't know what the soldiers wanted him for, but he wasn't going to let them hurt them. After that he'd find whoever had ordered them to do that.

In the past, when he found someone who wronged him, he'd hurt them to a level he felt appropriate and then leave them alive to suffer the indignities of their injuries forever. He didn't mind making enemies. It complicated things later, of course, but it didn't hurt anything.

This was different and he knew automaically that different actions would have to be taken. This person had hurt his **family**, his **son**. Kurt had been his reason for living for twenty-one years. He would never be able to hurt them enough for doing that.

It also meant that he had to kill them when he found them. They'd gone for Kurt, and he couldn't risk them coming back again. He'd have a grandchild in a few months to take care of too; he wasn't about to allow them to get hurt because of a madman. The Devil was coming for the one responsible, and he was coming with a vengeance.

Azazel had wondered if he could somehow communicate any of this to Amanda without scaring her. He could tell she was already a little scared of him after the scene in the living room. She trusted him more than she was scared, but he wondered how she might see his world view. In the end he decided against it.

Besides, she was already going through enough. She'd been threatened, beaten, seen murders, and lost her husband all in one day. With her ongoing pregnancy on top of that he'd wondered if she would break. However, she'd held up with great aplomb as they left the Alps. They'd stopped for one night at the monastery, explaining to Jerome what had happened and why they wouldn't be back. Then they had taken off.

Azazel had started by cleaning up the bodies. He hadn't wanted the monastery to get into any trouble. Everything inside him had screamed to go after his son, but he knew he owed it to the monastery. After that they'd tracked the tire tracks to the road. He'd teleported out of the mountains and into a town that they must have passed through.

Amanda was useful there. Because of her appearance it was easy for her to order tickets and do inconspicuous investigations. She'd found out about the truck and the direction it had been heading. From there Azazel had deduced that they were heading for a dock several miles away. He'd given Amanda instructions upon their arrival and found that they'd taken a boat to America.

It would be America, wouldn't it? His memories of battles fought with the Brotherhood came to the front of his mind sharply. The vague idea of perhaps contacting Magneto floated into his head. It was dismissed almost immediately. Magneto was in prison. Besides, letting him out would be helping the Brotherhood in their war, something he'd sworn to stay out of. The situation hadn't become desperate enough for him to break his vow yet.

His swords itched for activity on the boat ride over. He hadn't hurt his enemy enough yet. He wanted to destroy their resources; both human and natural. Only then would he inflict them with physical pain. When he felt somewhat compassionate, possibly after a few hours, he would kill them. That would be the end of that.

First and foremost he had to find Kurt. He knew it would be difficult and that it could take a long time. He communicated this to Amanda privately.

"But I will find him," he swore.

Amanda nodded. She put her hand on the wall to steady herself before coughing. Azazel cocked his head.

"You are sick?"

"I'm fine," Amanda said, "Just a little seasick…and Blue here is giving me a little bit of trouble. Blue just can't keep still."

She patted her stomach. Azazel had heard her use her nickname for her unborn offspring before. He nodded but resolved to keep a close eye on her. She was part of his family too. Amanda carried his grandchild and was the love of Kurt's life. He wasn't about to allow her to get hurt.

When they docked the trail ran cold. They stayed in the Floridian town for several days looking for clues. Strangely enough Amanda's cough didn't go away. If anything it got worse. Eventually Amanda found that several identical trucks had been seen running through the town for a few months. It wasn't much, but it was enough to go on.

That night he raided one of their secure facilities. He managed to get stealthily in. It was difficult to hack the systems; his computer skills were several decades behind what he would have liked. Eventually a techie walked by, a late night shift. Azazel killed him quietly and took his security clearance. Using that he got in and began scanning through the files. Names scrolled past his eyes, all of them meaning nothing.

He paused when he saw the file on Lensherr, Erik. No; it wasn't that desperate. He warred with himself. What if it became that desperate? Certainly he couldn't go back to that life. Yet, his son's life was at stake and he should be willing to do anything to save him. At the same time he didn't know what would happen if he had to go down the road that he swore he'd never go down again.

Still struggling with himself he ignored the file and continued searching. Finally he found Wagner, Kurt. The fact that they knew his last name made shivers run down his spine. It was replaced soon after by a spike of white-hot anger. How dare they hurt him when the only thing on his son's mind had been his anticipation of becoming a father?

Furiously he clicked on the file. Mounting indignation rose as he read;

_Name: Kurt, Wagner_

_ Subject number: 235_

_ Mutant Ability: Teleportation_

_ Use: Possible initiation of Project Wideawake. _

_ Subject test data: Subject is unreceptive to the Mastermind serum, possibly due to shifting skin cells. A shape shifting ability does not exist though. Suggested course of action; removal to Weapon X facility. Move approved on June 27, 1985. Further information can be requested from Colonel Stryker._

Several ideas went through his mind as he read the words. The first was anger; Kurt had been there. They had just missed him. The idea of some sort of serum on him was another cause for alarm. Azazel had no idea what the Mastermind serum was and he had no desire to. Consequently he had no desire for it to be used on his son.

The overall clinical terms used disgusted him further. They talked about him like he was some lab rat. The words 'Project Wideawake' were filed for future searching. Nothing in the file was particularly comforting, only making him fear more for his son and his anger grow against those who had taken him.

Now he had a name to go with his hatred. Again, it wasn't a comforting one. Mystique and Magneto had told him about this Stryker. His lips curled back into a snarl. The man was an acknowledged mutant-hater, a man who used mutants to his own ends and then decided to destroy them afterwards. And this man had his son.

Angrily he searched for Project Wideawake on the computer. He'd thought that he couldn't become any angrier or more fearful for his son after reading his file. He was shocked at how incredibly wrong the assumption had been. For a minute his vision blacked out and he contemplated smashing the computer, as if destroying it would make its intent go away.

A plan formed in his mind. Calmly he scrolled up to Lensherr, Erik. Things had gotten that bad. His file was considerably larger than Kurt's. Azazel had to grin to himself. A plastic prison? He could think of several ways to get in even if he couldn't teleport. Homo sapiens could be delightfully arrogant at times.

With his information he teleported out. He'd have to figure out what to do with Amanda. She was five months pregnant now and he'd already put her in too much danger. She'd been a great help to him and he sympathized with her. Her need to find Kurt was on parr with his. Like Azazel she had sacrificed a great deal to be with him.

Still, it wasn't good for her to put her in continuous danger. He should find some out-of-the-way place to put her in a mutant-friendly community. She could have doctors deliver the baby that way. He teleported into the hotel room that she'd rented. Almost immediately a foul smell assaulted his senses. Azazel wrinkled his nose.

"Nevetska?" he called.

Amanda came from the bathroom, shivering under her a large bathrobe she'd put on. Her footsteps were wobbly and Azazel immediately went over to offer her support. Her hand gripped hers tightly and he realized how much trouble she was having. Up close he saw that there was something black on her lips. Something inside him twisted painfully at the sight.

"Azazel," she said softly, "I don't know what's happening. I…I…"

His heart sank as he led her to the couch.

"One moment nevetska," he said.

He teleported into the bathroom. She'd been throwing up more of the black material into the sink. He leaned his head down and examined it. His heart sank before he teleported back to his seat on the couch. She looked at him with wide eyes as he searched for words. There was no good way to do this.

"Nevetska," he said calmly, "you have been vomiting sulfur."

She continued to look at him in confusion.

"I think this Blue might be teleporter, sulfur in skin, excess sulfur..." he said, trying to lighten the mood, "Runs in family. But…"

"But I can get sulfur poisoning, can't I?" asked Amanda quietly.

"Nyet….nyet exactly," Azazel said slowly, "It will weaken you…possible to have miscarriage-"

Her eyes filled with tears.

"-or you could die in childbirth," he said, thinking of his own mother.

Tears spilt from her eyes. Amanda covered her face in her hands, bringing her knees up to her chest.

"I don't know what to do," Amanda whispered, "I can't lose Blue…I can't…I don't know what to do…"

Azazel gritted his teeth. He hated what he was going to do next, but he didn't see another option. He'd rain hell on the bastard if he didn't help her though.

"I do," he said, surprised at how even his voice was.

Amanda looked up, her eyes teary.

"But nevetska," he said, knowing that he was giving what was left of his family to strangers, "you will have to listen carefully."


	29. Chapter 29

_July_ _15, 1985_

Dr. Jean Grey was gloomily familiar with being woken up in the middle of the night by the presence of a strange mind on the school grounds. She knew that it caused the Professor to start too, but she'd long ago told him that she could handle it. As long as the mind wasn't hostile there was no reason for him to get up. His age and wheelchair made it difficult for him to personally greet every new student that came through the doors so late. His visits would be scheduled to a later time.

It wasn't a duty that she relished. Jean never liked seeing the desperation on the children's faces as they showed up; often at the back door. It was like they were too defeated to go through the front. It broke her heart but she did her duty as quickly as possible. They needed to get in where it was warm, get fed, and put in a bed with clean sheets. They needed to know that there was someplace safe for them as soon as possible.

She pushed the sheets back from her bed, careful not to wake Scott. Jean put on her bathrobe over her nightgown and slipped into her slippers. Quietly she walked through the halls, following the slight telepathic disturbance. Jean managed to get to the back door a fraction of a second before she heard the knock.

Opening the door she took in the sight before her. It wasn't an unusual one. The girl was young, late teens probably. Her clothes were in better condition than mostand the dark circles under her eyes proclaimed that it had been a long time since she'd slept properly. She also had a sick look about her, like she wasn't feeling well. A messenger bag was slung over her shoulder and she bore an expression that was both hopeful and anxious.

Again, it was something that Jean had seen before. Those who came to the back door had followed a rumor; their only real hope when the world had seemed to turn its back on them. The Professor found many of their students through Cerebro, but so many more seemed to slip through the cracks.

However, there was one small difference between the children she normally dealt with and the one in front of her. Jean had never had a pregnant teenager knock on the door. The girl was several months along and Jean was surprised to see a wedding band on one of her hands. It wasn't something anyone really expected to see on a girl so young, but neither was her swollen stomach.

"I…I need to talk to Professor Charles Xavier," the girl said.

Jean's eyebrows raised in surprise. She'd never heard that from a prospective student before. Usually the opening line was a tentative; 'I heard this was a safe place for mutants.' The girl appeared nervous but she seemed to know what she was talking about. Perhaps she'd had more than the usual scraps of information passed onto her.

"The Professor's asleep right now," Jean said.

The girl shifted.

"I'm sorry to disturb him, but I really need to talk to him," the girl said, biting her lip.

Jean hesitated as to her next action. The girl didn't seem damaged or abused, just tired and worried. So she allowed herself to put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. The girl didn't seem too affected by the gesture, but she didn't shrug it off or recoil in horror. That was always a good sign.

"You can talk to him in the morning," said Jean, "He always talks to the new ones in the morning. But you can come in. You're more than welcome here."

The girl nodded before walking in. One of her hands kept itself on the wall as if to steady herself. Jean shut the door behind her as the girl sat down on one of the nearby couches. It looked like even the short walk was becoming difficult. Jean sat next to her. The girl gave a nervous smile and extended her hand.

"Amanda Wagner," she said.

"Dr. Jean Grey," Jean said, taking her hand and shaking it.

Amanda gave another nervous smile.

"I read some of your papers once," she said, "I particularly liked the theory about the x-gene being passed from fathers to their offspring. From what I'd seen it seemed plausible."

"I've seen a lot of evidence of that," Jean said.

A thought occurred to her. It wasn't particularly inspired, but it was somewhere to start.

"Was your father a mutant?"

Amanda bit her lip gently.

"No…he wasn't," she said, "And I'm not either."

Jean raised an eyebrow. She hadn't been expecting that.

"I…my husband is. His name's Kurt."

The name dripped with pain and Amanda turned her head away.

"Kurt's father is too. And I'm pretty sure the baby is as well."

She put a protective hand over her stomach. Jean winced inwardly as the girl's pregnant state began to make sense. Something had happened to the baby's father, possibly his family too, and the girl needed a safe place to give birth to a child that hospitals might not be ready for. It was simple enough.

"You see…I…I'm not sure how to explain this," Amanda said, "But there are things I really need to talk to Professor Xavier about, and soon too. We didn't know what else to do. My father-in-law said he'd be able to help."

Jean let out a deep breath. Perhaps it wasn't simple enough.

"If it's difficult to explain," she said gently, "then I might be able to help. I'm a telepath; not very good I'm afraid, but good enough to be able to pick up a few thoughts if you're thinking about them."

She saw Amanda twist her hands together. Jean waited patiently. The girl had obviously had something traumatic happen recently. She was good at reading the signs.

"Alright," she said, "I'm ready."

Jean put her hands on either side of Amanda's head, not quite touching. She closed her eyes and concentrated. The scene changed and she was in a hotel room. A man was sitting next to her, his skin a brilliant shade of red. A scar cut down the side of his face and his hands were clasped together.

_"Nevetska," he said, "I am going to take you to place; safe place. It is only place I know where you may find help."_

_ Jean vaguely registered the Russian word for 'daughter-in-law'. So this was Amanda's husband's mutant father. _

_ "What are you talking about?" asked Amanda. _

_ He leaned his forehead onto his clasped hands. Every word seemed torn out of him like he was angry at revealing this, angry for leaving her._

_ "It is school," he continued, "Well, not exactly school. But good for mutants, humans too. It is run by man called Professor Charles Xavier."_

_ "I read a few of his papers," Amanda said. _

_ "Da, he writes papers," the man said bitterly, "But he will help. He…he does not know…but he is Kurt's uncle. The brother of Kurt's mother."_

Jean jerked her hands away from Amanda's temples. She stared at her for a minute before getting up.

"Where are you going?" asked Amanda.

Swallowing Jean put one hand on the door frame, trying to calm her breathing.

"I'm going to go wake up the Professor," she said.

* * *

><p>Charles looked at the girl sitting across from him. She stared back, looking exceedingly nervous. His head was ringing. He'd gotten very little sleep but despite the late hour he was wide awake. The kind of thing that Jean had said wasn't something you could go back to sleep after hearing.<p>

Could it be true? Jean was a good telepath, better than she thought she was. She wouldn't have gotten this wrong. At the same time what she'd said had been incredible. Raven had effectively severed all ties. He'd never seen her in a non-combative situation after Cuba, and God knew how he'd tried.

Now this girl had shown up after twenty-one years, the wife of his nephew and the mother of his unborn child. He swallowed hard as he looked at her. After so many years of dedicating himself solely to his cause he could once again be looking at a member of his family. It was almost too much to think about.

Amanda stared back at him, apparently nervous as well. He swallowed, remembering that he had to put her at ease.

"Amanda," he said kindly, "I'm Professor Charles Xavier."

She nodded.

"I read a few of your papers once," she said, "I've read some of Dr. Grey's too…did alot of reading when I met Kurt. They had a few pictures with them."

He smiled weakly. Carefully he wheeled over so he was next to her. She didn't seem alarmed by the proximity, just nervous by the situation.

"Now," he said, "if you could please show me what you showed Dr. Grey."

Amanda nodded and he put a hand to his temple. He saw the hotel that Jean had mentioned, only he had several other observations, one that made him start in surprise.

_ "Nevetska," he said, "I am going to take you to place; safe place. It is only place I know where you may find help."_

_ Charles stared at Azazel, the word filtering slowly through his mind. He'd been with Raven? Raven had told him of the terrifying mutant that she'd seen at the CIA complex. And yet, she'd trusted him enough to become his lover? The mother of his child? Charles was once again confronted with the fact that, in the end, he didn't know much about his sister at all. _

_ "What are you talking about?" asked Amanda. _

_ Azazel leaned his forehead onto his clasped hands. Every word seemed torn out of him like he was angry at revealing this, angry for leaving her. Charles frowned. Everything about Azazel seemed tired, tense, on edge. Charles still didn't know what had happened to Kurt, why he wasn't there. However, he could tell that it was the reason for Azazel's apparent frustration. _

_ Perhaps he didn't know very much about Azazel either._

_ "It is school," he continued, "Well, not exactly school. But good for mutants, humans too. It is run by man called Professor Charles Xavier."_

_ "I read a few of his papers," Amanda said. _

_ "Da, he writes papers," the man said bitterly, "But he will help. He…he does not know…but he is Kurt's uncle. The brother of Kurt's mother."_

_ Azazel's lips curled in something like a snarl. _

_ "I don't…" Amanda said, "Kurt's mother abandoned him."_

_"Da, Kurt's mother abandoned him," said Azazel, "Should have known. She abandoned brother shot in back on beach. Should have known, should have seen."_

_ He shook his head before resting his chin on his hand. Charles looked at the red mutant somewhat differently. He still believed the man was dangerous and wasn't pleased that he was the father of his nephew. However, whatever Raven had done before leaving had obviously hurt him badly. _

_ "Now, Kurt's uncle is mutant. Telepath," said Azazel, "When go to school, show him this memory. Just think it."_

_ "Azazel, I don't…I…well," she said. _

_ She shook her head. _

_ "We both knew I couldn't keep help you look for the people who took Kurt forever," Amanda said, touching her stomach, "And now that I'm sick…you think they'll be able to help? I'm really worried about Blue."_

_ Charles' eyebrows rose in shock._

_ "If anyone can, they can," said Azazel. _

_ Amanda closed her eyes. _

_ "It's going to get more dangerous, isn't it?" _

_ "Da," Azazel said. _

_ He gripped her hand. _

_ "But I swear I will find him nevetska," Azazel said, his voice fierce, "I will find him and bring him to school. Then we will have to move, but he will be with us. Trust me nevetska."_

_ Amanda nodded. _

_ "I trust you."_

_ "Good. If they find him, and they might, or if need me," said Azazel, "Keep in contact with this."_

_ He handed her what Charles recognized as a cell phone. He decided not to speculate on where the teleporter had gotten it. _

_ "Now keep self safe," Azazel said, "Kurt will want to see you."_

_ "I will," Amanda said, her voice quiet as she turned the phone over in her hands, "I will."_

Charles pulled out of Amanda's mind. She looked at him, her eyes wide and her hands still over her stomach. He gave her a gentle smile.

"Of course you can stay here," he said, "There's no question of that. And I'll have Dr. Grey examine you in the morning to see about what we can do about your illness."

She smiled, looking much less nervous. When she did that he could see how truly young she really was, how much strain she'd been under since Kurt had been kidnapped.

"And I will do everything in my power to try and find Kurt," he said, "You can rest assured on that."

"Thank you," Amanda said, closing her eyes against tears.

He gave her a sad smile.

"No, don't thank me," he said, "It's the least I can do for family."


	30. Chapter 30

Rogue always had trouble sleeping. She didn't know if it was the feeling that she wasn't safe, not really. She always did sleep better when Logan was around. He was the only person she knew who felt like family to her. The memory of her parents flickered through her mind before she shoved it away angrily. She couldn't go home, not even for the summer break. Rogue didn't go where she wasn't wanted.

She sat on the edge of her bed, her long legs swinging over the side. Her bed creaked loudly. In the bed next to her Jubilee turned on her side, another girl who couldn't go home. Rogue wasn't worried about waking her up. Jubilee could sleep through a tornado. It made the two of them perfect as roommates; one who couldn't sleep and one who was too good at it.

"There's an empty room at the end of the hall."

Rogue looked up as the hallway light that flooded under her door was momentarily blocked. She recognized Jean's voice.

"This is the girl's dormitory?"

That voice was unfamiliar. Rogue frowned and got up. She opened the door a crack and peered out. Jean was in the hall. She was leading a girl towards the last room on the left. Rogue couldn't make out much; the girl's back was turned towards her. All she could see was a curtain of golden hair down to her waist.

"Yes," Jean said, "but you shouldn't be disturbed."

Rogue raised an eyebrow. She'd never gotten any sort of reassurance. She'd actually gotten a roommate a mere week after being admitted.

"It's okay; I don't mind. It was crowded back at the circus."

Curious she pushed the door open slightly more. The door creaked loudly and Rogue winced. Jean turned and folded her arms, her face reproachful. The girl with her turned around. Rogue hoped she wasn't staring, but she was pretty sure she was. She'd never had good control over things like that. The girl couldn't have been much older than her but she was very pregnant.

"Rogue," said Jean, "Lights out was four hours ago."

"Sorry Dr. Grey," Rogue said, not meaning it at all and cocking her head at the girl, "Ah heard a noise. Are 'ya a new student?"

"Not exactly," the girl said, "I'm…Amanda Wagner by the way."

"Rogue," Rogue said.

"Who should have been asleep a while ago," Jean said, "We've talked about this Rogue."

Rogue made a face. Jean had a habit of being the incredibly mature teacher, the one who was in control and wouldn't let anything slide in class. It could be more than just a little irritating. At least she had some leeway with Storm; you couldn't get away with anything with Jean.

It made her wonder just what it was that Logan and Scott saw in her. Rogue wasn't interested in either of them that way; not at all. It just grated against her nerves. Rogue was nearly eighteen now and she was being treated like she was a ten-year old. The worst part was that Jean was actually talented at making her feel like a ten-year old too.

"Ah'm not even out o' my room," said Rogue, rolling her eyes, "Just heard a noise."

"Well now you know what it is," Jean said, "It's been a long night and I suggest you go back to sleep."

The tone showed that it was anything but a suggestion. Rogue rolled her eyes again before closing the door. She went back to her bed and flopped down on it, staring into her pillow. It was going to be a long night for her and she was seething with resentment too now. With an angry sigh she turned onto her back. 

* * *

><p>"We have to do a few preliminary procedures," said Jean, "Have you had a ultrasound?"<p>

Amanda shook her head, walking with Jean. She felt better that morning but still a little dizzy. However, she knew it would be good for her to walk rather than to ask for assistance.

"I…Kurt's mutation is very apparent," Amanda said, "I was worried that if the baby was a mutant, and there was a ultrasound, then…well…someone…"

Jean nodded her head in understanding. She punched in a few numbers on a keypad and a door slid open. Sleek stainless steel walls greeted her eyes. Everything was very clinical, almost unnervingly so. She took a deep breath at the sight as Jean gestured for her to go in. Amanda stepped inside, looking at the charts on the walls.

"Don't worry. To start with though, we're going to take a ultrasound right now," said Jean, "That should give us some idea of what's going on."

Amanda nodded before asking;

"Is the Professor going to be here?"

She caught the slight hesitation before Jean shook her head.

"The Professor thought you would be more comfortable if it was just you and me."

Amanda nodded and laid down on the examination table. Part of her wanted to call him. There was something reassuring about his presence. She'd also seen that, although he had never met Kurt or known of his existence, he was deeply troubled by the fact that he'd been taken. Amanda had shown him her memory of the soldiers and she'd seen his lips tighten.

Part of her wondered if that was the real reason why he wasn't there. He certainly cared about her well-being, had done so much to make her feel safe and welcome. Perhaps he was looking for Kurt with his own resources. Azazel had mentioned the possibility that he'd instigate his own search. Amanda sincerely hoped that was what had happened. The more people who were searching for Kurt the better.

All around her machines began to hum. Amanda looked at them, cocking her head to the side. She hadn't had much time to explore the mansion. She'd been ushered directly to bed after her discussion with the Professor, and she'd accepted the option of sleep gratefully. So much had happened that night that she'd been out as soon as she'd hit the pillow.

That morning Jean had brought her breakfast so she didn't have the opportunity to leave the room. After changing she'd been led to the med-bay. It occurred to her then that there were two different mansions. There was the one where the students lived and learned. Then there was another one where strange technologies were developed and fighters were trained.

Azazel had warned her that things weren't as they seemed at the mansion. He admitted that, although Charles Xavier was a good man, he had fought against him for several years. He'd also said that he believed that the mansion was safe because Charles had his own team of mutant fighters. Amanda wondered when her life had taken such a strange turn. She could only imagine it had been when she had met Kurt.

She closed her eyes against that memory. Amanda hated being in the dark about the fate of her husband. Azazel would be more efficient without her slowing him down, true enough, but she knew that he wouldn't give her daily information. She'd be grateful if he checked up on her through the cell phone more than once a month.

"Alright," said Jean, "I'm going to attach the sensors now, alright?"

Amanda nodded and leaned back. Her eyes closed as she relaxed. For the first time in weeks she was safe; if not satisfied. Kurt was still out there, and so was her father-in-law. However, she'd been worried about the danger. Amanda wasn't so much worried for herself as for Blue. She wasn't just taking care of herself anymore and she had to remember that.

Jean went to work and in a few minutes there was a whirring sound. Amanda cracked an eye and saw a black and white image on the screen. She stared at the small moving shape and all the sound was sucked out of the room. Vaguely she registered the unmistakable silhouette of a baby. As she watched the baby even flexed its fingers.

"Gender?" she whispered softly.

"It's a girl," Jean said, "Congratulations."

The memory of a small, dancing blue girl came to her mind. She closed her eyes to push the tears back. When she opened her eyes again she looked more closely at the image. Blue's legs were twisted strangely. Amanda went to hold her stomach protectively, a gesture she was doing more and more, before she remembered the sensors. She stopped herself just in time but the urge was still there.

"Is something wrong with her legs?" asked Amanda.

Jean peered closer. There was a moment before Jean shook her head.

"She has hooked ankles," said Jean, "Not unusual from what you've told me about her predecessors. It just means that the focus of her balance will be on her toes instead of her entire foot. It's a slight mutation, but not one that will affect her negatively."

Amanda laughed. Her fingers reached out and touched the screen.

"Cerise," she whispered.

For the first time since Kurt had been taken she felt hope rise. 

* * *

><p>In accordance with her prediction Rogue didn't get much sleep that night. Slightly curious about Amanda she'd looked out for her around the mansion. She really couldn't have been too much older than her. Rogue ran into Jean in the library and casually asked about her.<p>

Jean's subsequent brusque dismissal of her question was enough to make Rogue determined to meet Amanda. She hadn't been too interested in her before; Rogue wasn't very interested in most of the people she met at the school. She got on with Jubilee and John and was dating Bobby. There was too much of her that felt disconnected to take an active interest in making friends though.

Being told that she couldn't do something; that changed everything. Pursing her lips Rogue had turned away from Jean. She waited until she was sure that Amanda was in her room before leaving her own. Rogue almost opened the door before remembering she should probably knock first. It was the polite thing to do.

"Yes?"

She opened the door. Amanda was sitting on her bed, reading a book. She cocked her head at Rogue.

"You're Rogue right?" asked Amanda.

Rogue blinked, gently shutting the door behind her.

"Ah'm surprised 'ya remembered me," she said.

"I'm good at faces," said Amanda, "And you're one of three people that I've met since I came into the school. It gets easy when that happens."

There was a slightly awkward silence.

"Well, ah figured ah should invite 'ya to the neighborhood," Rogue said.

"Thanks," Amanda said, "You been here long?"

"About a year," shrugged Rogue.

"Oh," Amanda said.

There was another pause and Amanda gestured to the chair that went with the standard desk.

"You can take a seat, if you want," she said.

"Thanks," Rogue said, sitting down, "so, what's 'ya mutation?"

Amanda blinked at her uncertainly.

"I don't have one," Amanda said, "I'm a…the correct term for it is homo sapien, right?"

"Ah wouldn't know," said Rogue.

She looked at Amanda in surprise, though she did try to hide it. She suddenly felt awkward. Rogue couldn't imagine anyone who wasn't a mutant coming to the school. What would their motivation be, and how would they find out about the school in the first place?

Amanda noticed. She paused as though trying to figure out the term for it.

"I'm the Professor's niece, by marriage," she said by way of explanation.

That was news. Rogue didn't know that the Professor had had any siblings. Amanda shrugged and smiled.

"Something like that anyway," she said, "My husband is the Professor's nephew and there's…complications…"

Amanda bit her lip and Rogue realized she didn't want to talk about it. Coughing she quickly tried to change the subject.

"What are 'ya readin'?" she asked.

Amanda looked down at the book and turned it over.

"_The Vampire Lestat_," she said, "I generally don't go for gothic novels but it was in the library and it was the first book I saw."

She shrugged her shoulders again.

"We don't have a lot of recent books where I come from," said Amanda, "And this was written this year, so-"

"Ah love those books!" Rogue said, "Have 'ya read the first one?"

"No, I haven't," said Amanda.

"'ya should," said Rogue, "_Interview With the Vampire _was written in '76 an' ah thought there was never gonna be a sequel but then this one came out an' ah hear she's workin' on another one righ' now!"

Amanda smiled and put the book aside.

"So you think I should start with the other one first?"

"'ya don't have to ah suppose," Rogue said, "But-"

She stopped, suddenly embarrassed.

"Ah'm sorry," she said.

"No, don't be," laughed Amanda, "So, what do you think? Should I put this down and look for the first one?"

Rogue grinned.

"Ah have it in mah room." 

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:**__Rogue's love of gothic novels comes from the X-men: Evolution episode 'Shadowed Past' where she discusses a book where the surprise ending was that the main character was a werewolf. _


	31. Chapter 31

Charles' head pounded furiously. He hadn't had a headache this intense in years. The first time he'd used Cerebro had been painful in several ways, but it had been forgotten in his exhilaration. With extended tinkering the situation had improved and he could spend hours on it, searching for prospective students.

It was what he'd been doing that morning, only instead of students he was trying to find Kurt. With such a cold trail it was little more than a grid search. Kurt was a powerful teleporter from what he'd heard. Usually if a mutant was powerful it made them easy to find. A powerful teleporter was a different story. They moved in such zig-zagging patterns that it was difficult to get a lock on them.

After a few hours he'd realized that he had to switch tactics. He'd tried to find Azazel at one point. It had been difficult as well, but not undoable. He was staying in the New York area. Apparently he had some sort of lead. Charles decided to keep an eye on him while searching for Kurt. He should be able to figure out what was going on that way, or at least get an idea.

The extended hours in Cerebro had taken their toll though. His head throbbed and pulsated. He'd actually had to cancel his afternoon classes because of it. The aspirin he'd taken was not going to help, not any time soon anyway. Sighing again he rubbed his temples and contemplated retreating upstairs for some extended rest.

A knock on the door shattered his plans.

"Come in."

Jean opened the door and stepped inside. He gave her a smile in greeting and gestured to a chair. She sat down.

"Amanda asked about you today," she said.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be there," he said, "How is she?"

"She's settling in well. You should have seen her face at the library," said Jean, "Apparently most of the books she's been reading over the past year or so were ones that were at least ten years old. The new ones really caught her attention."

"I'm glad," he said, "It's important that she feels safe here."

Jean smiled in return before looking somewhat uncomfortable.

"Scott asked who she was," said Jean, "I wasn't sure if I should tell him or not so I said you would talk to him about it. I just didn't know if I was supposed to."

He leaned back and nodded.

"Yes, I should have a word with him and Ororo," he said, "They're going to need to know about this. It's not like I wanted to keep this a secret. I'll tell them tonight during the staff meeting."

"Alright."

"Other than that, how did it go in the med-bay?" asked Charles.

"The good news is that the baby's healthy," Jean said, "A healthy little girl at the perfect stage of development."

Charles smiled despite his fatigue. It had been so long since he'd had biological family that it made it almost unbelievable.

"Anything else?" he asked.

"The child is definitely a mutant," said Jean, "And the signs indicate that she's probably going to be a teleporter."

"I was under the impression that the teleportation mutation was very tenacious once it had attached itself to a gene strain. It's rare, but it does run for quite a while unless a more dominant mutation is introduced," said Charles, tapping his chin thoughtfully, "As both her father and grandfather are teleporters and the x-gene is carried through males it makes sense."

"You're right," said Jean, "There's more though."

His heart sank.

"I was rather afraid there would be."

Jean gave him a look of sympathy.

"You see Professor," said Jean, "Amanda mentioned that the child's father would appear and disappear in black smoke and the smell of sulfur would accompany him. That means that he was probably secreting sulfur in his skin that would allow him to move like that. I think his daughter is too and that's what's causing the symptoms in Amanda. They didn't show up earlier because the child wasn't at the right stage of development. And now Amanda's getting very sick very quickly."

He gave her a worried expression.

"Is there anything you can do?"

Jean hesitated before shaking her head.

"Nothing I can do," she said, "But if you called in a specialist there probably would be something they could do."

He got the hint and he didn't even need to read Jean's mind. He'd been considering it himself after all.

"I see," he said, "I'll ask Hank if he can come up."

* * *

><p>Azazel pulled the lapels of his coat up further against the pounding rain. With his hat tilted low it was hard to see any portion of his face but the dimmest sliver. It helped him keep his anonymity, and he was going to need it. Humans were still small-minded creatures no matter what country he went to. Teleporting was out of the question. He'd had far too much experience with the dangers that came with teleporting in daylight to utilize it in the way he needed to.<p>

He couldn't just let the precious daylight hours drip away though. It was winter and daylight was decreasing, but it wasn't decreasing fast enough. Azazel couldn't just afford to waste all of those precious hours. It was good that Amanda wasn't with him; it meant he didn't have to take as many precautions anymore. It was logical that he should take risks now; time was of the essence.

It was for that reason that he wasn't sure why he had been hesitating for as long as he had. If it was the old days then he would have just done it and gotten it over with. However, time had passed. The rage after seeing Project Wideawake was cooling now. It was still there but logic was bolstering him now as was his apprehension.

He was angry at himself. If he was younger than he wouldn't have hesitated. He would have charged in, head first, guns blazing, without a second thought. He wasn't younger though. He was a father, soon to be a grandfather. Azazel was also weighed down with being outside of a safe haven for so long. His skills in killing might have not dulled, but his ability to make hard decisions had waned.

What was holding him back? If he really looked at the question then he knew what it was. It was the crippling sensation that he would make the same decision Mystique had made. His heart burned in anger but he knew his reluctance in leaving his old life. He'd enjoyed fighting for a cause. What if he returned and then decided that he wanted to stay in it?

He chided himself. That would never happen. He was different. He no longer believed that he needed revenge for what his grandmother and uncle had done. No; he was past that now. The best revenge, he'd decided, was to live a happy life and do what he wanted. They had tried to take his life from him; he was going to live it to the best of his ability.

His ideals didn't run parallel with the Brotherhood anymore. Azazel also had a family waiting for his safe return. There was a grandchild that he wanted to see and a son he had to rescue. Everyone he cared about was no longer tied up in the Brotherhood and he smothered any feelings that lingered for Mystique. Things had definitely changed. There was no going back, and he didn't want to.

Azazel tilted his chin up defiantly. He had issued a threat to the person, or persons as it may be, who had kidnapped his son. He'd told them that Hell was coming and he meant it. There was no reason to hesitate or shirk what he needed to do. The time to make the hard decision had come, and his son was not going to be put in danger because he was found wanting.

He let his eyes scan the fence before walking away in the rain. There was more information to collect, just a few more days. He couldn't go where he couldn't see. Azazel gave a casual look at the sign outside of the compound; Secure Detainment Facility. Authorized Personal only. He ran his hand lightly on the fence. Azazel had to smile at that. How stupid. It looked like their 'secure' facility was only inside. They had made the fence out of metal.

* * *

><p>Kurt didn't know how long it had been since he was dragged from his home. Had it been a week? A month? A year? He had no idea. Whenever they moved him, and he was sure that they moved him, they tranquilized him heavily. He'd wake up in a different room, one heavily barred and with only a small cot.<p>

The first time he'd come to he'd tried to teleport out. All he'd managed was to give himself a headache. Kurt had felt panicked then and noticed something around his neck. It was a collar and he tugged on it. It wouldn't budge and he noticed the lights flicker on it. He'd tried to teleport again and the lights became bright. Whatever it was it was blocking his ability.

He tried to pry it off by slipping his fingers under the collar, but they were too thick. He tried the same trick with his tail. The spade came halfway up but it shredded the skin on his neck and made him bleed. He had to stop so he didn't severely injure himself.

Kurt struggled in the resulting days to keep himself calm. He mustered up what little memories he had of when the soldiers had come. His father hadn't been there; he was sure of that. That was good; he didn't know what would have happened if he'd been taken too. Kurt didn't even know if the soldiers had known that Azazel was there. At least his father had gotten away; that was comforting to know. His father would be coming. He knew that.

However, he did have a memory that was more worrying than comforting. He'd seen Amanda being pulled back by the soldiers before he blacked out. She'd screamed his name, her hands reaching for him. Had they taken her too? Was she in this hell with him somewhere, alone, scared, their child growing inside her? It was all he could do not to lose his mind once he realized that.

The first time he'd seen the soldiers he'd demanded to know where she was. It had come out harsh, his voice defiant. One or two had even shrunk away. Despite thier initial shock none of them had spoken, just forced him onto the table and dripped something onto the back of his neck. The pain had been incredible. It was like someone had just casually poured acid onto him. He could even hear the way his skin sizzled.

Nothing had happened afterwards. This sent the soldiers, and someone he supposed was a scientist, into great distress. They'd tried it several more times to no effect. Each time he'd demanded to know about Amanda and swore at them. He was peaceful in his normal life, but too much was going on to be so. Besides, he had too much of his father in him to keep from cursing his captors.

After that he was transported again. They tried the burning liquid on him again. By now, whatever it was, it was making him sick. Kurt clawed at the back of his neck where they put the liquid. It hurt most of all. He thought of Amanda and swallowed hard. She'd already been sick because of the baby. If they were doing this too then her health was in peril. Once he'd been moved he had increased his demands to see her. They weren't answered either.

At the end of his second day he heard a whispered;

"Hey, Kid."

He looked up and saw a grill between him and another cell. It was too dark, even with his eyesight, to look into it. Kurt dragged himself to it and collapsed, the movement exhausting him.

"Ja?" he asked.

"You can hear me," the voice said, a feminine lilt to it, "That's good. I haven't talked to anyone except these assholes here for ages."

"Do you know vhere ve are?" asked Kurt.

"That's the million dollar question, isn't it?" the woman chuckled darkly, "I don't know. One minute I'm doing a special ops mission, I go for my relief, and they give me enough tranquilizers to drop an elephant. That Killbrew bastard was pretty specific about that."

She chuckled again but it sounded strained.

"They're scared of us kid," she said, "Their mind-control serum doesn't work on us and they don't know what to do about that. Only rebellion we have. Now, I know it doesn't work on me because of my healing factor. How about you?"

He paused and mulled over the new information. Mind-control serum? Kurt pulled his knees up to his chest, folding his arms over them and resting his head on top of it. It seemed like the more he heard the more danger he was in. The more danger he was in the more danger his wife and unborn child were in.

Kurt realized that the woman in the other cell was still waiting for an answer.

"Somezing about mien skin I suppose," he said at last.

"Nice. The damn collars don't let us use our powers but they can't cancel our biology. Guess my healing's part of my biology."

There was a pause and the woman coughed.

"I don't mean to be intrusive," she said, "But I hear you talking about someone named Amanda a lot. Who is she?"

Kurt's stomach clenched painfully.

"Mien vife," he said.

"Oh…maybe I shouldn't be calling you kid," the woman said, "You looked young is all."

"I am tventy-vone. I just married early," he shrugged.

"No kidding," she said.

There was another pause.

"Your wife a mutant too?"

"Nein…I…I am afraid she might be here too," he confessed, feeling the urge to have someone else know.

"Nah, they don't keep non-mutants here. I think your wife is safe kid," she said, "Oh, there I go again."

For the first time in a long time Kurt allowed himself to smile. Perhaps she was alright and with his father. They would be looking for him, he was sure. Azazel would take care of her and keep her out of danger. He wasn't going to stay idle though; he'd try to break himself out as well. He owed it to them, to the family that he wanted. He wasn't going to let these people keep him here.

"What's your name, so I can call you something else?" the woman asked.

"Kurt," he said, "Kurt Vagner."

"German eh?" the woman said, "I should have known from the accent. Well I'm Yuriko. Yuriko Oyama."

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **A comic prequel from the second movie was released that revealed that the two of them talked quite a bit while they were imprisoned by Stryker. She wasn't such an evil person in the movie. _


	32. Chapter 32

_August 8, 1985_

"So, ah was wondering what chapter 'ya got up to last night?"

Amanda smiled. She quite liked Rogue. The girl was fairly near to her age and it was good to have a friend in her new, albeit temporary, home. All her life she'd been surrounded by people that, even if she didn't know them, she felt comfortable with. She'd gone from her childhood home to Kurt's arms and then she'd been put in Westchester.

The Professor was good to her; there was no arguing that. He saw her every day, making sure she had everything she needed, and just talking. He'd tentatively asked questions about Kurt. Amanda had forced out answers until he realized how hard it was for her to go on. It was good of him to make accomodations for her.

Of the people at the mansion Charles felt the most like family, probably because he was. He went out of his way to see if she was okay or having trouble. With a school that big it must be difficult, even in the summer time, for him to make time for such trivial things. For a while though she'd been scared that he was the only one she would be able to talk to anything about.

It was why she was happy that she got on with Rogue. It made her feel less a stranger, less alone. She felt almost guilty about how good it was to have someone around her own age to talk with who wasn't married to her. Amanda shook her head as they continued to walk outside the school in the pleasant weather.

The weather was good for her. It helped balance the shots that Dr. Grey kept giving her to take the sulfur from her system. As a result she was feeling more alert, but she'd been made to understand that it was merely a temporary measure. It certainly wasn't going to solve the overall problem that she might not be able to carry the baby to term. Even if she was the delivery was promising to be a difficult one.

"Can't remember the chapter, but I'm almost at the end of the book," she said, "Well, by my standards. Claudia just died."

"Ah know she was a brat, but ah couldn't help but feel sorry for her when tha' happened," said Rogue, "Just a little."

"I just hope Blue here doesn't turn out like her."

Rogue grinned.

"So, 'ya namin' the baby Blue?" she asked.

"No, it's just a nickname," said Amanda, "Kurt came up with it."

She felt a momentary twinge of pain. It had been nearly a month and she hadn't heard so much as a murmur from Azazel. Her throat clogged and she resented it. Azazel's silence made her want to call him, just to hear that he'd made **some **progress. Amanda was being left out of a search where she had just as much, if not more, to lose as Azazel if it failed.

At the same time her inability to speak about her family left her feeling a little trapped. She needed to be able to talk to people about Kurt, about Azazel, about her life. If she talked about it and kept it fresh in her memory it helped her believe it would return.

"The baby's going to be named Cerise," she said, "Unless Dr. Grey was wrong. Then the baby's going to be named Cereno. We talked about it."

"Ah see," said Rogue, "Cerise is pretty."

"Thanks," said Amanda, "we still don't have a middle name picked out. I was thinking Matthew if it was a boy…but again, Blue's supposed to be a girl."

Rogue nodded and looked around the school courtyard.

"Ah hope that the noise won't be too much for her," said Rogue, "The rest o' the students'll be comin' back in a few days."

"I'm more worried that her noise will be too much for **them**," said Amanda, "Are you going to be introducing me to Bobby then?"

Rogue ducked her head and blushed.

"Ah wrote Bobby 'bout you," she said, "An' he will. He's a great guy, really. I just…"

She trailed off and looked at her gloved hands. Amanda gave her a sympathetic look. She'd learned about Rogue's mutation early in their acquaintance. It seemed odd; Kurt had never seemed to find his mutation a handicap. However, they both knew that it was in several situations. Rogue had never seen her mutation as anything other than a handicap, and Amanda could understand why she thought about it that way.

"In any case," Rogue said, brightness forced into her voice, "Ah'm looking forward to seein' him again. An' ah'm sure you'll like him."

"I'm sure I will," said Amanda.

"But keep him away from anythin' hot 'ya drinkin'," said Rogue, "He does this thin' he thinks is cool where-"

"Amanda!"

She looked back to see Jean standing in the doorway to the school. Rogue rolled her eyes. Another thing she'd picked up on fairly quickly was Rogue's general irritation at the older woman's bossiness. She wondered if it was more about how distracted Rogue's friend Logan, whom Amanda had yet to meet, got around Jean or Rogue's own rebelliousness. She figured it was an even mixture of the two.

"We called in a new doctor," she said, "He just arrived a few minutes ago. You should come down and meet him."

"Be there in a minute," Amanda called.

She gave an apologetic look at Rogue who nodded. Amanda walked into the school, Jean following her closely. Although she knew she was sick she wasn't about to keel over any second. It was a little irritating though she knew that Jean was just trying to help her. Perhaps that was the difference between her and Rogue's perceptions.

Shaking her head she continued down the hallway. A new doctor. She had to fight the urge to clutch her stomach protectively. Sure, the shots that she'd been given were doing wonders. However, she wondered if there were more complications. She certainly didn't want to die, but if it was between her and her child she'd pick her child. It was terrifying, but the possibility that she might not even have the chance was more so.

Amanda bit her lip and banished the thought. She went down into the med-bay and heard two voices talking.

"It was dismissed," rumbled an unfamiliar voice, "but in our current political climate the fact of the matter is that it really can return any time. I've heard of a few other bills that died in committee as well."

"That is troubling," she heard Charles say, "but we must consider-"

Amanda walked in and the talking abruptly stopped.

"Amanda," said Charles brightly, "it's good to see the shots are taking effect."

She smiled in return. Amanda was glad that someone had noticed her improved balance.

"I'd like you to meet Dr. Hank McCoy," he continued, "He was one of my first students and is now a senator. He managed to recieve some time off to come here."

Hank gave a brief nod. Amanda directed her attention to him for the first time. The pictures that were attached to his papers had well-prepared her for his appearence. Besides, for the past year she'd lived with two demonic-looking mutants.

"Am I going to spend the next few months meeting the authors of** all** the papers I've read on mutation?" she asked

Hank smiled at her, showing fangs. Amanda stepped closer and held out her hand. Hank stared at it for a moment before shaking it.

"I just want to say that my husband was impressed by your blue theory," she said, "He felt it explained quite a bit."

"Aha, did he have a similar mutation?" asked Hank, gesturing to himself.

"Not exactly. But his skin was blue."

"And secreted sulfur from what Jean here has faxed me," Hank said, releasing her hand, "But I believe your symptoms can be counteracted with a few simple steps. The delivery may still be difficult, but I'm sure we'll be able to figure out something."

Amanda sighed in relief. She closed her eyes and tears pooled behind her eyelids. She'd been so worried for so long that she wouldn't be able to have Kurt's baby safely. Now that those fears were safely allayed she felt like she really could break down into tears. Perhaps she would later in her room.

"That's great," said Amanda, "How soon can we start?"

"Right away Ms. Wagner," he said.

* * *

><p>Erik was irritated at his prison. It could be called, optimistically, depressing. Normally he never spent more than a few minutes in jail. They were learning though, although their dependence on guns in any battle outside of the jail was still laughable. If only there were some screw somewhere in the cell's design, but there wasn't. Stryker had been very thorough on that count.<p>

His grip on his book tightened. The back of his neck still itched. He hadn't felt this helpless since he was a boy in Shaw's labs. Stryker would pay for this because, sooner or later, Erik was going to get out. He'd make him pay rather heavily then. Erik could only hope that he'd be able to get out before Stryker could make his move against Charles. The fact that he had to obey Stryker's gag on not talking about it to Charles was even more vexing.

Despite being on opposite sides of the board Erik always believed he and Charles were fair to each other. There were certain rules that they maintained; an honor code of a sorts. It was in homage to their old friendship, the thing that kept it alive in some ways. It was why they could still play chess from time to time.

Admittedly those rules had been broken in the past, but Erik believed that he had never actually betrayed his friend. He'd never tried to kill him; even the poison he'd had Mystique inject into Cerebro was meant only to temporarily incapacitate him. Charles was fine after a day or two. What Stryker was planning to do was completely different and had to be stopped.

From far away he heard something that sounded like a strangled scream. Erik raised an eyebrow and looked outside his clear door. The security guard who usually resided in the outside chamber lay slumped over the consul. A slight fizzing noise followed; a security camera had been downed.

Slowly he put the book down. Erik was about to get to his feet when a soft explosion followed by black smoke occurred to his left. The acrid smell of sulfur entered his nostrils. An old memory surfaced sharply. With raised eyebrows Erik turned his head and looked at his former, for lack of a better word, comrade.

"Zdra-stvu-eetee," said Azazel.

"My," said Erik mildly, leaning back, "It's been twenty one years Azazel."

"About, da," Azazel said.

He put his swords, a few flecks of blood decorating them, on the table before sitting down. Erik let out a deep sigh and the comforting feel of metal in the room. If he had his way he would start shifting it immediately, just for the ability to do so. He had to prioritize though, and prioritizing meant finding out why Azazel had decided to resurface.

"I didn't think I'd see you again after you disappeared with young Kurt," said Erik, "As I recall you said that you washed your hands of the Brotherhood."

"Da, well, things happen," Azazel said.

"Which is why you've come to me," Erik surmised.

He was surprised at how casual, how relaxed their conversation was. It was like they were sitting down to eat at the Brotherhood headquarters instead of at his prison. That was their talent though; being in control. Even when his guards or Stryker had come Erik could pretend to some level of control.

"Da," said Azazel, "but it is something you should know too."

"Hm," Erik said, cocking his head.

He gestured with a jerk of his head to the entrance.

"Won't there be guards coming soon?"

Azazel rolled his eyes and took out fistfuls of metal spoons from his pocket. He shoved them back before folding his arms across his chest.

"I see; we really won't have to worry," said Erik, "Now, what is it that brought you back into our midst?"

"I want to murder William Stryker."

The statement was so blunt and devoid of emotion that Erik raised an eyebrow. He knew that Azazel only spoke like that when he was truly angry. What had Stryker done? Then again, Stryker was adept at getting powerful mutants angry at him. The expression of surprise slowly faded into one of amusement.

"In this goal we appear to be matched quite well," said Erik, "Him I have to thank for my imprisonment and torture. What did he do to you?"

If possible Azazel's face managed to lose even more emotion. He put his hands on the edge of the table and leaned forward. When he spoke it was a hiss.

"I live for twenty-one years in peace," he said, "Deep in mountains, away from humans, from stupidity. I raise Kurt well. We bother no one."

His eyes narrowed further.

"Then, when I am out and Kurt is sick," he said, "Soldiers come into home. Give syn tranquilizers, drag away. I killed all of them but too late. Kurt was gone. I follow trail; and Stryker is at end."

Erik felt anger rise into his throat. He was unsurprised at the terrible things humans did to mutants in the name of purifying the race. However, this felt very personal. Kurt was his godson and men had been sent to drag him away from his home and future. It set his teeth on edge and he understood Azazel's rage.

"But that is not all," he said, "Stryker is planning terrible thing. This is something even saintly Charles Xavier would not want. Now that nevetska is safe, I put self at disposal. You are only one I know who can defeat Stryker and save syn. I ask for your help."

Erik looked his old associate. Time had changed them; in some ways beyond recognition. The man in front of him was older, but so was he. Erik had no reason not to believe him, and furthermore, he had no reason not to want to help him.

"Of course Azazel, of course I will," he said, "I may not be Christian, but I do not take the title of godfather lightly."

Azazel smiled and got to his feet.

"Yzumitelno," he said.

He picked up his swords and fastened them in his belt. Erik noticed that he had several other knives there as well. He barely registered this before Azazel held out his hand.

"Come."

Erik did so and, seconds later, left his plastic prison behind.


	33. Chapter 33

"According to reports he just 'vanished'," said Hank dryly, "We all know what that means."

Charles sighed and leaned back in his chair. The news of Erik Lensherr's escape had been blared across the news. Already politicians were back to trumpeting the anti-mutant cause. He wondered if his friend could see that his very existence out in the country was causing this. He supposed not. There were none as blind as those that couldn't see, something that Erik had told him with a scornful look many times.

The manner of his escape was troubling too. The guards had been stabbed, the security cameras taken out, and Erik had literally vanished. Azazel was obviously involved. It wasn't going to change the way they took care of Amanda, of course, but it had other implications beyond the obvious.

A meeting had had to be called. His current X-men stood in the room with them. Hank was there also, having taken up temporary residence until the birth of Amanda's child and the end of her illness. He could tell Hank had already made up his mind on the issue. Charles really couldn't blame him. Azazel and he had tried to kill each other on numerous occasions. As the member of each team with the most brute force they had been matched many times.

The rest of the X-men weren't so sure. The entire situation was complicated, and he knew they were trying to be delicate since it involved Charles' family.

"Were you able to get a lock on him?" asked Ororo.

"No," said Charles, "Anyone near Erik is hard to find. Add that to Azazel's ability to teleport and it becomes impossible. He dropped out when he was in Delaware."

"They moved fast," Scott observed, "Do you think they have a destination in mind?"

"Positive," said Charles, "from what Amanda has told me Azazel quit the Brotherhood shortly after Kurt was born, vowing to stay out of the war that Erik wants to bring."

Hank let out a derisive snort. Charles ignored him and continued.

"However, his son was taken from his home for reasons we have yet to fathom," said Charles, "He may feel this attack has dragged him back into the fray. Or, more likely, he may feel that Erik is his best chance at getting his son back."

"If he really was so focused on this then why didn't he ask us for help?" asked Hank, "It would have made more sense; he did advise Amanda to come here."

Charles shook his head.

"I believe he respects us in a way; I can't completely fathom his mind," Charles said, feeling ashamed to admit that of the man who had fathered his nephew, "I believe he also trusts us. He wouldn't have let us take care of Amanda otherwise. That doesn't mean he likes us or, more simply, he believes that Erik will not hesitate to do whatever he deems necessary, things that the X-men will be unwilling to do."

"I don't think that's the only thing they're going to end up doing though," Jean said flatly, "It's Magneto we're talking about."

"Indeed," agreed Charles, "but right now we're not in any condition to give chase. They were in Delaware hours ago and Azazel is a teleporter. They may be in Argentina for all we know at the moment."

"Unlikely," Hank said, "he knows his son was in America at some point, correct?"

"Correct."

"Then Azazel will stay here and Magneto won't have much choice if he's promised to help," said Hank, "And seeing how Azazel broke him out I'd say that he agreed. They're probably gathering people up."

"Like?" asked Jean.

Hank hesitated before saying;

"Well, they never did catch Mystique, did they?" 

* * *

><p>The Senator Kelly disguise was beginning to irritate her. Mystique was used to posing as different people for months at a time, but her sudden change of heart on the 'mutant issue' was leading to questions. Some of them were personal and she'd had to find out a good deal about the pathetic man's life to keep the disguise.<p>

Still wearing her disguise she walked to her window and pulled the drapes closed. Mystique relaxed into her natural form and cracked her neck. She stretched and closed her eyes for a moment. As she did so her mind wandered over the headlines she'd seen in the newspaper, screaming over every news program.

Erik had escaped. Logically she'd known that no prison could hold him, not even a plastic one. At the same time she'd been under the impression that she would be the one to break him out. It would have made sense. To her knowledge no other members of the Brotherhood had survived the debacle at Ellis Island.

She cracked her neck again and turned around, away from the window. Opening her eyes she saw Erik sitting in a chair, tapping his hands on the armrest. Somewhere along the route he had changed into his traditional clothes and it made her feel better to see him in them. He'd even found his helmet wherever they had hidden it. The way he looked at her wasn't reproachful, although she did believe that she deserved it for not being able to rescue him fast enough, and more interested.

"I wondered why the good Senator was still in office. I suppose reports of his death are greatly over exaggerated," Erik said.

Mystique grinned and slid into a seat opposite him.

"You have no idea the kind of things he was involved in," she said, "Not enough I'm afraid, to facilitate your escape."

It was as close as she could come to an apology. The nod in response was as close as Erik would give to forgiveness. It was their code.

"We have a new problem," he said, "One that I was recently informed of. It appears that we will be dealing with a familiar face soon. Do you remember William Stryker?"

Her nails dug into her chair.

"Unfortunately I do," she said, "Didn't that asshole get himself killed?"

"Apparently not," Erik said, "People are getting harder and harder to kill these days. He was a visitor in my cell."

His hand went to the back of his neck and itched it. Erik's voice was tight when he continued.

"He asked many questions, mostly about Charles," he said.

"I assume you told him to go to hell?" asked Mystique.

His momentary hesitance made her grit her teeth.

"He has a serum that can control mutants," said Erik , "This alone may make him the most dangerous man on the planet. But there's more. Apparently he's initiating something called Project Wideawake. Have your heard of it?"

The dodge of the question made her want to scream. So he'd told? Mystique believed her brother was an idiot, but not an idiot that deserved death. If Stryker was planning to attack the school then she knew Charles would rather die with his students than leave them. He could be foolish that way.

However, Erik's slip was made permissible by the serum. From his angry expression she knew he hadn't been able to resist it. He certainly didn't look like he was going to let the insult Stryker had given him slip by. Her mind moved onto his question. The words were unfamiliar to her. Mystique frowned and concentrated.

"Kelly got a message the day after I took over about supporting that, but the offer was revoked when I revoked my support of the Registration Act," said Mystique, "I suppose that I should have played along."

"No, the Act was the immediate threat," Erik said, "However, circumstances are changing. I believe that, in and of itself, Project Wideawake is the start of the war."

She sat up straighter. Her head cocked to the side.

"I suppose we're supposed to make sure it happens then?" she asked.

"No my dear. I intend to crush it and obliterate it from the face of the earth," he said, "It is enough that it exists; its mere existence will start the war. If we let it go ahead without stopping it then I heavily doubt there will be much world left. Some stages require presidential approval, which Stryker does not yet have. I believe he is trying to make the atmosphere right for it though. As such time is of the essence."

Mystique raised her eyebrow.

"Alright," she said, "do we have time for a recruitment drive, or is it just us two?"

"Us three," said Erik.

Frowning she leaned back.

"How else do you think that I got out of that wretched cell?" he asked.

With a smirk he gestured called out;

"You can come in now."

A small explosion and puff of black smoke later and Mystique was looking at a nightmare. She took a sharp breath in, unable to control her emotions. Azazel was standing mere feet from her. His hands were shoved deeply in his pockets although she could make out the swords attached to his belt.

His pale blue eyes stared forward, looking at her but not seeing her. She'd seen that expression before when she'd handed him Kurt. It was like she didn't exist anymore, was a mere phantom that he wasn't going to acknowledge. She suppressed the shiver she felt at the sight of him, of the unforgiveable betrayal he exuded.

She had done the right thing though, she knew she had. Ideologies and causes were much more important than one person. Azazel had not only refused to see that but viewed her as some sort of monster. The way he acted was like she hadn't been without pain as her lover and son had walked out of her life.

"He was also the one who alerted me about Project Wideawake," said Erik, "and of the fact that it's going to be implemented soon."

She looked at Azazel and schooled her features carefully. With an arrogant tilt of her head she looked at Azazel and said;

"And what made you care?"

"They have taken my syn," Azazel said flatly.

Somewhere deep inside her her heart stuttered. She thought of the small baby in her arms, cooing and flicking his tail about. A flash of anger had welled up in her at the same time. He had emphasized the word 'my', as though she were merely some old associate he was telling about the situation.

There was a lot she wanted to say, to tell him he couldn't deny that she'd given birth to Kurt, that he was part hers. She wanted to yell at him for going to Erik first, for forgetting her completely. The only thing that restrained her was Erik's presence.

"Oh, I see," she said, her voice just as flat as his.

Erik coughed across from her. She gave him a pointed look before settling into a neutral mask. Mystique didn't appreciate the lack of warning he gave concerning Azazel's sudden appearance. Later, in private, she planned to let him know that. For now the look was going to have to be enough.

"Our first priority, of course, is to find Kurt," said Erik, "We have reasons to believe he might be a tool to initiate Project Wideawake."

Her heart stuttered again and she shoved it down. She'd gone twenty-one years without worrying over Kurt and she could continue to do so for a few more minutes.

"Why's that?" asked Mystique.

Erik shrugged.

"Perhaps they need his ability." 

* * *

><p>"I repeat; find another."<p>

"Emrys," Stryker said impatiently, "that boy has the capabilities we need. How the hell else do you think we're going to be able to get through the sheer amount of Secret Service in the White House?"

"And I repeat," said Killbrew, his voice tired, "Find another."

"I've never known you to give up so easily," Stryker said, narrowing his eyes.

Killbrew snorted.

"Easy William? Easy?" he asked, "His skin cells have resisted every single drop of serum we've used; even the undiluted formula. We don't have the time!"

"You got it into that Yuriko," Stryker said.

"By drilling into her neck, yes, we did," said Killbrew, "I'm glad that produces a natural conduit. But just use her if it's so time sensitive. That boy's impossible."

"Emrys, you've gotten me through a lot of impossible," Stryker said, "Now, why is it failing?"

"Well, his skin cells for one," Killbrew said tiredly, "they shift too much. We could get through that; we're wearing him down. His healing factor isn't as strong as Yuriko's. However, it would take months for us to get it down to that level with his mind resisting."

"Aha, there we go," said Stryker, "We just have to break him. Simple as that."

Killbrew sat down and laughed.

"I've seen the look in his eyes when they bring him out," said Killbrew, "It's like pure fury mixed with serenity. Have fun doing something as **simple **as breaking him."

Stryker smirked and snapped his fingers. Two soldiers came in, one pushing a wheelchair. With no small amount of satisfaction he took in the emaciated, sickly form on the wheelchair. Two mismatched eyes glanced up at him before dropping listlessly to the ground. It was how mutants should be; tamed and restrained.

"I will have fun Emrys," Stryker said, "I will."


	34. Chapter 34

_August 15, 1985_

"So…she's pregnant."

"Bobby," Rogue said, rolling her eyes, "if that's the only thin' you're plannin' on sayin' about Amanda then you can stop. Ah have already figured out she's pregnant, ah do have a brain."

"I'm just saying," Bobby said, looking down at his soup, "she's only a little older than us and she's married and having children. Just…wow."

"Wow isn't the word I would use for it," John smirked.

Rogue glared at him, glad that Amanda had gone up to get her lunch. She'd also been glad that Bobby had offered to get her her lunch even if she had declined. It turned out that her act of independence had been a small mercy in disguise. Her friends could be rather insensitive at times, although she liked Bobby because he **wasn't **a jerk.

Bobby had been polite when he'd run into her friend; if anything she was happy that he had saved his shell-shocked demeanor for later. It wasn't as though he actively disapproved of her, it was more that he was more surprised. His surprise surprised her; Amanda was married after all. So what if she seemed to understand where her life was going better than they did? Rogue envied that.

John hadn't said much during the meeting, but he was certainly being talkative afterwards. Usually his acts of cocky jerkiness were good for a laugh. This time it wasn't so funny; she knew the look on his face. It was the look he got just before he crossed the line from irritating into cruelty. He held up his hands defensively at the look Rogue gave him.

"All I can say is that I'm kind of curious about the guy that got her knocked up," said John, "I mean, he's got a visible mutation and that's why she came here to have the baby right? So how ugly do you think he is? On a scale of one to ten?"

Rogue's glare turned up a notch but privately she had wondered what he looked like. She hadn't wondered about it the way that John was, but Amanda never talked about Kurt. That was one of the only two things about Kurt that Rogue knew; his name and that he had a visible mutation. At the same time she figured she could wonder about that later, if it was her business at all. They had to deal with John first.

Bobby noticed her anger and shook his head at his friend.

"Not cool."

"Says you, 'Iceman'," John said, "You just want to defend your girlfriend's friend and all, and I get that."

Sometimes Rogue wondered why Bobby was friends with John at all.

"Then you'll shut up," said Bobby.

"No need to get all defensive," said John, "all I want to know is how someone who probably looks as ugly as sin hooked up with her and got her to marry him; if that's even true. And then he just dropped her like a rock when the baby's coming? Come on."

She gaped.

"You know that's not what happened!" Rogue hissed.

"Uh huh," said John, "Right, I'm sure. Just curious, you know-"

He was cut off abruptly when a glass of soda was poured over his head. He whipped around, sputtering.

"What the hell?" he demanded.

"So sorry," Amanda said, her voice chilly, "I'm just so clumsy sometimes. Guess it must be a pregnant woman thing."

Her tray fell from her hands, emptying the tomato soup on his lap. The soup was hot and he yelped, getting up.

"Whoops," said Amanda, "Good thing I lost my appetite."

She turned on her heel and walked away from the group before John could respond. Rogue got up and hurried after her. Despite her pregnancy Amanda could move fast and the crowded hallways had a tendency to part for her. Not everyone at the school was as insensitive as John. By the time she caught up with her Rogue was panting.

"Amanda, wait!" she said.

Amanda stopped in the door to her room. Her teeth were gritted and her face streaked with tears. She jerked her head in before slipping inside. Rogue followed, closing the door quietly behind her. She watched as Amanda sat down on her bed, her head in her hands. Rogue sat next to her, putting her hand on her shoulder in what she hoped was a comforting manner. She was more than just a little out of practice when it came to comforting touches.

"He had no business saying that," Amanda said, her words coming out fierce, "No business at all."

"John's an ass," Rogue said, "Ah don't know why Bobby an' he are such good friends. Usually he's funny but he was bein' an ass today."

Amanda gave a small smile before twisting the ring on her finger.

"I miss him," she said softly, "I miss him so much Rogue."

Rogue nodded, unsure of what to say.

"You'd like him if you could meet him," Amanda said softly, "Kurt has this way of looking at this world like it's this big wonderful adventure, like everything was a miracle. It's strange since his father can be so serious, so dour. I suppose that Kurt really does look at the world differently."

She laughed, a tearful sound. Rogue noticed Amanda's almost forceful use of the present tense when she referred to her husband. Her hand went to her nightstand and withdrew what looked like a small notebook.

"He calls me that from time to time, his miracle," said Amanda, "We wouldn't have met if I hadn't been in a car accident; he saved my life. I saved his too later, but by then it didn't matter. I'd already been his, knew that I would never really want to leave him. When I did it was because I had to, and I came back. It was where I wanted to be."

Slowly she opened the photo album. Rogue looked over her shoulder and saw Amanda sitting with a man who she could only assume was Kurt behind her. She blinked at his appearence; his blue skin, his three fingers, his **tail**. His arms were wrapped around her neck and she looked happier, more carefree than Rogue had ever seen her.

"His face when I told him I was pregnant…it was like all his dreams were coming true," said Amanda, "All of them, all at once."

Her hands rested on her stomach.

"And these pictures," said Amanda, "I have so few of them. Kurt hadn't owned a camera before I came."

One of her hands gently touched the photograph before closing the photo album. As she put it away Rogue looked at her. She knew what she meant by having so few photographs. If Kurt never did come home, was really gone forever, then those would be the only way Blue would ever see her father.

In that moment Rogue realized that despite her strong appearence she deep inside did have doubts about her husband coming back. Deep inside she must fear that he was dead and her father-in-law was on a wild goose chase. She must have feared that her child would never know her father and she would never hold the man she loved again.

Rogue began to wonder how much effort it took for her to get up in the morning, how much faith that things would turn out alright.

"I miss him, very much," Amanda said.

Rogue remained silent. Her friend didn't want her to talk back, didn't want a discussion. She wanted someone to know this. It was like what Rogue had told Logan at the train station the night Magneto captured her. She wanted someone else to know how she felt so that she would feel a little less alone in the world.

That trust, that admission, required something in return. Barely thinking Rogue blurted;

"My real name's Marie."

Amanda looked up, her eyes wide. They softened slightly.

"It's a pretty name," she said.

Rogue gave her a weak smile. She shifted her hand on Amanda's shoulder.

"Ah'm sure Kurt's fine."

Amanda sighed and twisted her ring again.

"I don't know where he is, or what's happening to him," said Amanda, "I know he's alive. And I hope, even if it isn't realistic, that he's safe." 

* * *

><p>Kurt knew something was different this time. Usually when they dragged him out they had two or three guards come as an escort. This time there were seven. He'd seen what had happened to Yuriko when she'd come back after her last session. She'd been dazed, distracted. It had been days before she talked properly and then she confessed that she felt like she'd had no control over herself for the past few days. Kurt had no desire to go through that himself.<p>

So he fought them. It didn't do any good; they put tranquilizers into him almost immediately. He'd been weakened for months with poor food and conditions; it didn't surprise him that he was weak. However, he was determined that whatever they were about to do wouldn't be easy for them. He wouldn't let it be.

When he awoke from his tranquilizers he was all but chained to the wall. Experimentally he tugged on his arms and tried to move his legs. They too were bolted in. His collar was securely around his neck and each movement of his head was agony. Kurt didn't know what this meant, but he knew it wouldn't be good.

"Ah, Kurt Wagner I believe."

His eyes slid down as he saw an older man walk into the room. A man in a wheelchair was pushed in behind him. Kurt narrowed his eyes.

"We meet at last," the man said, "Stryker by the way, William Stryker."

Kurt glared at him.

"Ah yes, I thought I might get this reaction. Understandable, quite understandable," he said, his lips pulling into a thin smile, "Now, I am led to believe you've been asking for someone. I believe her name is Amanda?"

Panic bled into his heart but he quickly shoved it down. She couldn't be here; he was bluffing. Yuriko had said that they didn't have any interests in non-mutants. Stryker walked to a second door. Kurt moved his neck but kept his eyes on Stryker. That strange smile was still on his face, a smile that chilled his blood and sent his heart racing.

"It seems horribly cruel to keep the two of you separated," said Stryker, "I've heard she's pregnant, carrying your little abomination I suppose."

Still casual Stryker opened the door.

"Well, here you are."

Kurt's head moved to the side. His heart stopped and his brain turned to ice. Two guards dragged Amanda into the room. Her hair was limp and there were dark circles under her eyes. Bruises riddled her body and she seemed to have difficulty walking. Her feet scraped the floor. She'd been tranquilized, he could see that, but she was slowly coming to. Amanda groggily lifted her head, her eyes meeting his.

She gave him a weak smile and his heart broke.

"Kurt," she whispered.

He pushed forwards, his wrists chaffing against the restraints. However, the restraints held him fast. The guards let go of her, causing her to stumble. She caught herself at the last minute and limped over quickly. Her hands touched his face, her lips pressing to his almost immediately. He kissed back, wishing he could hold her but the restraints held him back.

Amanda let go and touched her forehead to his. For a moment he forgot where they were, before it rushed forward with terrible clarity. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Stryker nod. The guards returned and grabbed her arms. They dragged her backwards, not too far but far enough away not to touch.

They continued pulling her back as she struggled, the effects of the tranquilizers still keeping her in a death grip. She was having trouble keeping up, her own efforts making her feet bleed as they scraped the floor. He struggled too as a flicker of apprehension entered Amanda's eyes. She knew that they weren't being brought for a reunion, and after their meeting reality was crashing around them.

"Kurt…" she said, her voice scared now.

Kurt jerked his arm, causing one of the restraints to rip down his arm. He gritted his teeth before howling;

"Verdammit, stop!"

"I'm disinclined to," said Stryker, "You see, I've been indulging a scientist up to this point, keeping her alive. But he has his data now."

Something about the genuine smile on Stryker's face made his fear sharpen into panic.

"Nein," Kurt said, "Vhatever you vant to do nein!"

"You're hardly in any position to give orders," said Stryker.

Kurt pulled at his restraints, his inhibitor collar beeping madly as he tried to teleport. It was all useless, he knew that, but he couldn't stop. He needed to reach her, to stop the tears which were involuntarily streaming down her face. She tried to move her head but the tranquilizers were still taking effect; every movement was difficult for her.

Skin ripped off his limbs as he tried to move but he didn't notice anymore. All he could see was Stryker's movements, Amanda's tears.

"I don't regret this Kurt," she whispered, "I don't regret you."

"Liebling, nein, nein…" Kurt said, repeating himself over and over again.

Her eyes met his, tears still streaming down her face. Next to her Stryker was drawing something out of his hip pocket.

"I love you," she whispered.

The next thing he knew a gunshot exploded the air. Blood stained her stomach. Her voice was raised into a scream. Everything moved slowly and painfully, as though some dark force wanted him to see every minute spasm of pain that wracked her body. Kurt's voice joined with hers, screaming her name, screaming for this not to be happening. Another gunshot brought her to the floor, the guards dropping her. Her screams were silenced abruptly; dissolving into wordless sobs.

Still casual, still with an air of indifference, Stryker walked over. Kurt felt himself reach for her just as Stryker placed the gun to her temple. His eyes were locked with hers, and the gunshot rang out. Her blood spattered across the room and she was silenced. Kurt could feel it on his hands, his forehead, boring into his skin. Her lifeless eyes stared at him, her golden hair stained with red.

"I do hate it when only half the job's done," Stryker said.

Something inside him broke. The love of his life was gone, her last seconds filled with pain and agony. His dreams of a family were gone; his wife and child murdered by a madman. Images blurred together and, from somewhere in the distance, he thought he heard someone sobbing out screams. He wasn't collected enough to recognize them as his own.

His mind sank into darkness. Kurt was lost to the world, lost when Amanda and the guards disappeared. He was lost when Stryker detached himself from the wall, a place he hadn't left since he'd first entered the room. He missed when he walked up to the man in the wheelchair, leaned down and whispered;

"Good job."


	35. Chapter 35

_September 6, 1985_

From the minute Amanda woke up she knew that something was wrong. She'd woken up at strange times ever since Blue had learned how to kick, but this felt different. Everything was disoriented and fuzzy, leaving her feel strangely lost. Struggling she sat up, feeling her stomach clench and unclench painfully. Tilting her head she looked at the clock by her bed. It was a little past midnight.

Another spasm of pain rocked her. Amanda gasped from surprise and put her hand to her stomach. She turned on the light. Realizing that there was no blood, ruling out a miscarriage, she relaxed slightly. Another spasm of pain made her reach for the emergency button on the side of her bed. Jean had had it specially installed, telling her that the push of a button would summon her and Hank to her bedside. Amanda practically broke the button as another spasm left her gasping for breath.

True to their word Jean and Hank were up quickly, only a few minutes passing between her summons and their arrival. Amanda looked at them gratefully.

"I keep getting…it's like cramps," said Amanda.

Jean and Hank exchanged a look.

"What?" asked Amanda.

"How far apart are they?" asked Hank.

"I had the last one about a minute ago and…oh God," Amanda said, bending double, "I suppose that makes it a minute."

Hank put a hand on her back and jerked his head to Jean. His hand felt reassuring on her back as he instructed her to take deep breaths. A few minutes later Jean returned with a fold-out wheelchair slung over her back. She unfolded it and Hank held his other hand out to Amanda. She looked at him, her eyes big.

"Amanda," he said, "you shouldn't panic. But you're having the baby early."

Warning bells went off in her head. She swallowed her panic and looked up.

"Is that okay?" she managed.

"It should be fine. Mothers give birth early all the time," Hank reassured her, "But regardless we need to get you down to the med-bay. Considering the strength of your contractions I figured it would be a good idea for you to take a wheelchair. They seem unusually strong, but your child is somewhat different. It's not unusual for mutant births to be painful but short. The wheelchair is just for your comfort."

He spoke in a soft, measured tone that dripped with experience. It would have required a conscious effort not to be reassured by it. Amanda nodded at his words, taking his hand and allowing him to help her up. More contractions came and Amanda struggled to stay on her feet. After a few minutes he gently led her into the chair. She gasped again, feeling her hair stick to the back of her neck with sweat.

Jean began to roll the chair out but she shook her head. Her mind was spinning but she needed this; there was no way she was leaving the room without it.

"Wait…I need…I need…"

"What do you need?" asked Hank, his voice still calm.

"My phone," she said, "and a minute …I need to call Kurt's father…I...he needs to be here…his grandchild…Kurt would want …I need to call him. I need to call him right now."

Hank shared a look with Jean. Amanda knew that they were thinking that they needed to get her downstairs, that they didn't have time for her to summon an old enemy.

"Please," she begged.

She saw Hank swallow.

"Of course," he said, his tone sounding more than a little strained, "Now, where's your phone Amanda?"

"Third drawer," she said, feeling strained, "In the black case."

Jean hurried over to the dresser and fished the phone out. Without a word she left the phone in Amanda's hand. Amanda waited for them to leave the room, feeling their absence keenly. Having someone there was like delegating the control to someone else, letting someone who knew more about this tell her what to do.

Nevertheless, this was a private call. She knew that Azazel had trusted her, and only her, with the necessary number to summon him. It would be betrayal if she let anyone else see it if it wasn't a dire emergency. Amanda needed to know personally that he was coming. Once they had left she punched in the number with shaky hands. More contractions were coming and her nerves were stretched. Her mouth felt dry as she tried to compose the words she needed to say to relay her message.

* * *

><p>In theory Azazel supposed the call could have come at a worse time. For instance, he could have been sneaking into a secure facility, had the phone go off, given away his position, and brought numerous guards down on him. Instead he was in a secure facility where the alarm had already been tripped, he wasn't sure who had done it, and he was already fighting the guards.<p>

He stabbed one in the chest and picked the phone out of his pocket with his tail. He flicked it to his ear as he stabbed another oncoming guard and teleported away from a third.

"Nevetska," he said, "now is not time to-"

"I'm having the baby," she blurted.

Azazel froze, almost allowing himself to be shot by the last guard. He shoved his sword into the man's head before directing all his attention to Amanda's call.

"I will be there," he assured.

"Thank you," she said, her voice a whisper, "They're good to me here…I just…"

Amanda didn't need to finish. She just needed someone who had seen Kurt, who could remember the life that had existed before his kidnapping and give her hope that there would be a future to it. Guiltily he realized that he should have called her more, reminded her that there was a good deal of hope. It was too late for that, but not for the support she needed at the moment. He knew where he needed to be now, and it wasn't where he was.

"I understand," he said, "I will be there nevetska. You can count on it."

He clicked the phone off and shoved it deep into his jacket. He teleported to two doors away where Mystique was printing out files, her eyes glued to teh screen. Erik stood by her side, his stance casual.

"We need to go,"Azazel said, "Now."

"One minute," said Mystique, not looking at him.

"Nyet!" he snarled, "Now!"

Without waiting for an answer he scooped up the files. Ignoring their shocked expressions he grabbed their hands and began the series of teleportations that would bring them back to the base. It was exhausting, but he had to move quickly. He thrust the papers onto the table while Mystique glared at him. Even Erik had an eyebrow raised in irritation.

Azazel turned to go but he felt his swords rattle. It wasn't a threat exactly, more of a way to get his attention. He turned back to see Mystique throwing the papers around impatiently and Erik looking at him coolly.

"It's going to take ages to decode this now," Mystique snapped.

"Indeed. Do you mind telling us what that was about Azazel?" asked Erik.

He struggled with himself. He didn't want Mystique to know this, she didn't deserve it. Every moment Erik detained him though was a moment lost in getting to the woman giving birth to his grandchild. He gritted his teeth and turned back to them. He let his glare sweep over Mystique before concentrating on Erik.

"Nevetska is having baby. Needs someone there," he said blankly, "I deserve to see grandchild. I will be back in day."

Erik released him almost immediately. He saw Mystique's eyes widen; she hadn't known Kurt had been married, let alone that his wife was pregnant. It didn't matter. He would let her think about it while he was gone. Azazel turned once again to leave when he felt her hand shoot out and grab his arm.

Whirling around he snapped;

"What?"

She seemed a little scared but tilted her chin up defiantly. For a minute he thought she was going to ask to go with him. For a minute he hoped she would.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she demanded, "Why didn't you tell me he was married? Why didn't you tell me I was going to be a gra-"

"Because you are nyet going to be grandmother!" Azazel thundered.

He bared his teeth at her shocked expression

"You chose, I chose!" he snarled, "I gave up Brotherhood, do nyet think that was easy! But Kurt taught me best revenge I could get against ignorant was to live life, not waste it fighting!"

Azazel leaned closer, truly seeing her for the first time. He felt the flicker of love he still held for the woman in front of him and banished it.

"He taught me I did nyet need Brotherhood to live," Azazel said, "Did Brotherhood teach you did not need family?"

Without further words he teleported away. He had a long trip ahead of him.

* * *

><p>Amanda put the phone down on the table. Her hands were still shaking and the pain was increasing.<p>

"You can come back in!" she called.

Hank and Jean came back in immediately. Jean took the wheelchair handles and pushed her out into the hall. The walls seemed to be rushing past her. She was halfway to the elevator when a door opened.

"What's goin' on?" asked Rogue, hastily tying her bathrobe.

"Looks like I'm having the baby early," said Amanda weakly.

Rogue's eyes widened. She looked around and swallowed hard.

"Do 'ya need me to come wit' 'ya?" asked Rogue gently.

Amanda hesitated for only a second before nodding fiercely. The more friends she had during the painful experience the better. Rogue looked up at Jean and Hank, almost as though she was daring them to defy her. Instead Hank just gestured for her to hurry up. She ran into the elevator with them as they journeyed down.

"Is the Professor coming?" Amanda asked tentatively.

"I contacted him as soon as we figured out what was happening," Jean said, "He'll be there in a minute. It's going to be okay Amanda."

She nodded and allowed herself to be helped into a hospital bed and changed. When the Professor came Rogue excused herself momentarily. She returned with books and videos to distract Amanda with. Amanda was grateful for the gesture. Although the contractions were painful her baby wasn't going to be coming for several hours. Any form of a distraction was welcome.

Four hours into her pregnancy Amanda saw Charles' brow wrinkle.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

Amanda knew, from her time spent with her uncle-in-law, that he did suffer from headaches as a side effect of his mutation. He smiled and shook his head.

"Only you would worry if I were having a headache when you were giving birth," he said, "But no, it's not that. Jean, I'm letting Ororo and Scott know that we're receiving a visitor and to be in the main hall. They're allowed to tell him what he wants."

Hank gave him a side-glance before returning to monitoring Amanda's heart rate. Jean nodded and pressed her hands to her temples. Rogue looked at the three of them confused, her finger marking the page in the book that she was reading. As another contraction came and went Amanda realized what was happening.

"You're about to meet my father-in-law Rogue," Amanda whispered.

Rogue closed the book entirely, looking alert and somewhat nervous. A few seconds later she jumped back as a blast of black smoke briefly filled the air. Amanda had missed the noise; it reminded her of home and a time where nothing had gone wrong. She summoned up a smile through her pain.

"I'm really happy you made it," she said.

"I would not miss birth of your reboynak," he said, smirking.

She smiled at him and then gestured to Rogue.

"This is Rogue; she's a friend of mine."

Azazel held out a hand. Rogue hesitated before pulling her gloves out of the pocket of her robe. She'd left so hastily that she hadn't had time to have them on. Azazel raised an eyebrow as she put them on and shook her hand.

"It's mah mutation," she said, sounding embarrassed.

He released her hand.

"I see," he nodded, "Do nyet be embarrassed."

Azazel looked over. Amanda saw his eyes lock with Hank's for a moment before both men's narrowed.

"And you are doing what here…?" asked Azazel, his tone snappish.

"Hank's my doctor," Amanda said, feeling puzzled and slightly irritated at Azazel's tone, "He's saved my life, came down here to do this personally."

Again she saw their narrowed eyes. A thought drifted in from somewhere that perhaps these two had fought. Hank wasn't a resident of the school currently, but she knew he had been at one point. It was completely plausible that he'd also been an X-man. The thought made her understand the hostility Hank seemed to show when Azazel's name was mentioned and vice versa.

She was wondered how much asking the school for help had grated on Azazel's nerves.

"Spaseebo," Azazel said tightly.

"Ne-za-chto," replied Hank, his voice equally tight.

Azazel cocked his head before turning to Charles. The two men looked at each other and again Amanda wondered what exactly it was he was seeing.

"Welcome," Charles said calmly.

Azazel nodded but didn't say anything. He sat down in a chair next to Rogue, who still seemed somewhat uncomfortable. Then Rogue took a deep breath and opened the book. She continued reading. It was good; she needed distractions. Every time there was a joke she let out a choked laugh. Once or twice she even thought she saw Azazel smile.

Two more hours passed. Then the contractions increased in pain, like someone was stabbing her in the stomach. Hank looked at her.

"It's almost time."


	36. Chapter 36

In the time between Hank's announcement and when he gave her instructions her mind turned to Kurt, wherever he was. The ache for him to be by her side became almost unbearable. She had known that having Blue without him there would be difficult, but nothing she had done could prepare her for what she felt.

Azazel had assured her that they were close to finding him, just a few more weeks. Amanda felt like crying when he told her that. She knew he meant to be comforting but somehow it only made her sad. If it was true then in a way he was so close to her and, at the same time, so very far away.

Her eyes focused as Hank put on his gloves and quietly got ready.

"I need you to push when I tell you to, okay?" asked Hank.

Amanda nodded while her body screamed no.

"Alright, now."

Taking a deep breath she followed her instructions. It was all she could do not to scream, even with the drugs. Hank had told her earlier that it had something to do with the sulfur poisoning. She began to understand how, if not properly counteracted, a woman could die in this way. It wasn't a thought she particularly wanted to dwell on though.

She felt exhausted and yet the pain kept coming. Amanda's hair had long since become soaked with sweat, sticking to her forehead. It had never seemed like a bad idea to have such long hair before. Jean laid a cool cloth on her head, trying to wipe some of it away. Rogue was there as well as Azazel, each saying reassuring things and telling her it was going to be over soon. Hank instructed her to push again.

Amanda did so, feeling more and more pain invade. She tried a few more times, her head tilted back into her pillow.

"You're doing great. You've got to do it again," Hank told her.

Amanda tried and her muscles refused to respond. Almost desperately she tried again but all she got in response was an increase in her pain. Summoning up a small amount of strength she made a feeble push. Afterwards her head fell back against the pillow, feeling like all of her muscles were limp.

Hank repeated himself and she shook her head weakly at his words. A miserable, gnawing exhaustion was taking hold of her. It scared her out of her mind.

"You've got to push Amanda," he said.

"I can't Hank," she sobbed.

"You can do it Amanda."

"I can't."

"You have to."

"I can't!" she screamed.

Hank paused, as though actually considering her words. When he realized she was telling the truth he swallowed. Amanda knew that wasn't good.

"You're going to have to force yourself to," he said, "You're body's unbalanced and…"

He examined her and paused.

"Your baby's legs are tangled," he said, "Hooked ankles so that means she's stuck right now. I can't fix this. You need to push the baby out; you can still do it. I don't think there's time for a cesarean."

She saw Azazel's eyes dart from her to Hank.

"Nevetska," he said, his voice low, "You can do this."

"Come on Amanda," Rogue said gently.

"I don't…I can't…" she said.

Charles glanced at Hank. He put a hand to his temple and Hank nodded.

"Amanda," he said, "I need you to look into the brightest corner of your memory. Think of something."

She shook her head.

"I can't…I can't focus on anything," she said.

"Unless you want me to see this memory, then you need me to bring it up yourself," he said, "That way I can hold it in your mind without seeing it."

His words didn't quite register, but racking her memory seemed easier than pushing. He knew what he was talking about; he must. Swallowing hard she picked at a memory. It began to slide through her fingers but Charles had closed his eyes and nodded. Amanda looked at him, wondering what he was doing-

_Kurt teleported her into the room. Her hair and veil flew out behind her from the motion. She laughed as he set her down on the ground of one of the guest cabins. Her wedding dress swept the floor, making her feel like the princess in a novel. Amanda corrected her veil and tsked her tongue teasingly at Kurt. _

_"You know you're only supposed to do that when you take me to your house," she chided, "You're doing things wrong Kurt."_

_He grinned. _

_"I could not resist," he said, "Besides, did not see before vedding. Did not see you months und months before ze vedding."_

_Amanda grinned back. There was a silence and, for the first time that day, Amanda realized that she was alone with him. The wedding had been a simple affair, even getting ready had been done quickly. She surmised that she had arrived at the monastery a mere hour ago, and now she was a married woman. During all that time she was with someone else, or someone had been in the room with her and Kurt._

_Kurt's eyes looked at her, as though examining her after their months apart. His eyes softened into something like wonder. Then, without any warning, he wrapped his arms around her. His lips crashed into hers, his fangs nipping at her lips. Amanda returned the kiss and threw her arms around her neck. It was much less chaste than the kiss they had shared in church and she was glad that this had happened later. _

_He pulled away and he clutched him to her. She leaned in, resting her head in the crook of his neck. In turn he buried his face in her hair, his breath hot on her neck. Amanda swore she felt his tail wrap around his waist, as though he wanted extra security that she wouldn't slide from his grasp. _

_"I haf missed you liebling," he whispered, "More zan I can say."_

_"I missed you too Kurt," she answered, "So much."_

_She felt him smile in her hair, holding her close and rocking her gently. _

_"Zrough rain, zrough snow, zrough tempest go.'Mongst streaming caves, o'er misty waves, on, on," Kurt murmured. _

_"What?" asked Amanda. _

_"Shhhh," he said. _

_With a slight pause he continued on. _

_"Still on. Peace, rest haf flown. Sooner zrough sadness I'd wish to be slain zan all ze gladness of life to sustain all ze fond yearning zat heart feels for heart only seems burning to make zem both smart."_

_Kurt sighed into her hair. _

_"How shall I fly? Forestvards hie?" he said, "Vain vere all strife, bright crown of life, turbulent bliss, love, zou art this."_

_He pulled away and took in her puzzled expression. _

_"Goethe vrote it," Kurt whispered. _

_Kurt leaned forward and kissed her on the lips, pausing only for a second to say;_

_"He vas right."_

She blinked as her reality returned to her. There was a moment of light-headedness, but it was brief. Pain pierced her body. The lights of the med-bay glared down onto her and sweat dripped down her forehead. Her eyes flickered over to Charles. Amanda realized what he had done and had to fight the tears that wanted to come. In the end she failed. Her throat was constricted, but she managed to whisper;

"Thank you."

He nodded and Amanda turned her attention to the task at hand. There was a future out there. She was going to share that future with her husband, with her newborn child. She wasn't going to lose the baby because she wasn't strong enough, because she didn't try hard enough. If Amanda had to fight for Blue then she would fight.

Amanda took a deep breath and, with renewed determination, continued pushing. A reserve of energy and strength she didn't know she had came up, pushing her into exhaustion. Prayers filled her mind that she couldn't articulate, didn't even consist of words, prayers only she knew that she was making. The pain intensified until she was screaming and sobbing, her breathing uneven.

Then, finally she felt something shift within her. It was almost as if her body was losing something but, at the same time, returning to normality. The sensation disoriented her for a moment. Then a new cry filled the room, the cry of a newborn. Amanda craned her neck but Hank shook his head.

"You have to push one more time Amanda," he said, "The afterbirth. Then everything will be fine."

Although upset that she wasn't through yet she nodded and complied. It was painful, but not as much as the baby's birth had been. When it was over she felt like her body was ready to dissolve. From far away she could see Jean doing something in the corner. Vaguely Amanda registered that she was cleaning the baby.

"The legs," Amanda managed, "nothing's…nothing's damaged…is it?"

Jean shook her head and Amanda gave a silent prayer of thanks, sealed with the last of the tears that leaked from her eyes. Blue was fine. After everything she had been through she'd managed to deliver her child safely into the world. Everything in her ached and burned, but Jean walked up beside her and placed a small bundle in her arms. Nothing mattered after that.

"It's a little girl," Jean said.

Two blue-green eyes looked at her, set in a sea of china-blue skin. A few black strands of hair dominated her head. Her ears were elfish and pointed, although she sported no tails and had the regular number of fingers. Amanda rocked the child, her old tears dripping down her face onto her daughter's.

"She's so beautiful," Amanda said, "My beautiful little girl."

Amanda tilted her head and propped the girl up. This way Azazel had a better view. An unreadable expression crossed his face.

"Your granddaughter," she said.

He closed his eyes briefly before opening them. A gentle smile crossed his features; one of the few she had ever seen. Across from him the Professor nodded quietly. Amanda moved her daughter so he could see too. He deserved it. He had done so much for the two of them. He smiled as well, an expression containing a hint of sadness.

"What's her name?" asked Rogue quietly.

Amanda touched her daughter's face, not quite hearing her words. A second later they sunk in and she looked up.

"Cerise," said Amanda.

She saw Azazel start.

"Cerise," he repeated.

She knew he knew that the child was named in his honor. Amanda thought she saw his eyes glisten for a moment. He reached out and gingerly stroked the Cerise's head. She made a soft little noise, pushing out with her hands. He withdrew his hands and Amanda shifted Cerise in her arms.

"It was Kurt's idea," she whispered, "He wanted to name…our firstborn after you. I thought…it was a good idea."

Amanda laughed slightly.

"Cerise is such a…long name though…I think I'll be calling her Blue for a while," she said, "Again…Kurt's idea."

She looked up for a moment.

"But…I…I get to pick the middle name," she said, "That was the agreement. And her…her middle name is Marie."

Rogue looked up, her lower lip trembling. Amanda leaned back, feeling almost dreamy. Emotions were running free and she allowed them to wash over her. She could feel how much they cared about her, about her child, and it was a good feeling. If Kurt were there to see their daughter then her happiness would be complete.

"I think it…works…" said Amanda, "Guess I should have mentioned it earlier...want to be godmother?"

There was a pause as her eyes grew wide.

"Are 'ya mad?" asked Rogue.

She reached out and touched Blue with a gloved hand.

"Ah'm amazed," she said, her voice lending her credibility, "There's a baby that shares mah name. Some of it anyway."

Amanda was too weak to smile anymore, but there were still a few things she had to say.

"I don't know…when we'll christen…when I should…"

Her unspoken words were that, since Kurt had been absent for the birth, he should be present for the christening. Azazel understood what she was getting at. The tears that had glistened in his eyes were pushed back, but she could still see that he was emotional. He put a comforting hand on hers.

"Do nyet worry about that," he said, "Whole month before it becomes wrong to nyet have baby christened, da? You will be able to do within time."

He was as good as vowing that she'd see Kurt within a month.

"Thank you," Amanda said.

She looked down and saw her own green-blue eyes staring back up at her. Amanda allowed herself to get lost in them before her exhaustion pulled her into unconsciousness.


	37. Chapter 37

_September 20, 1985_

There were memories, memories that seeped into his head like smoke. Whenever he tried to latch onto them they floated away; insubstantial. The only time that Kurt's memories seemed to have any substance to them was when he dreamed. They were nightmares then, nightmares that made him wish for his physically painful waking hours. Even then he had dreams when he was awake, hallucinations that left him wishing it would just end.

In his sleep he could see Amanda, her eyes bright and her lips smiling. There were many memories like that, memories that cycled around in an endless circle. He could remember the first time that they were together in the cabin, surrounded by the snow. After she'd fallen asleep, but just before he had, he'd stroked the side of her face.

Kurt had marveled at how different she was. Her skin was so soft compared to his. Amanda had more fingers and her frame was altogether more delicate. He'd wondered just how fragile her bones were. Her hair wasn't as coarse as his; it was much finer. She had more of it and it was bright, bright like her eyes, bright like her laugh. She was a creature of light while he was made for the night and shadows.

Amanda was made differently from him. Kurt knew her arguments about how mutants and humans were the same, but really there was a difference in construction. And yet they were both very similar. They enjoyed so much, laughed together, and she had told him she loved him. It had changed the way he saw the world. She was his missing half; he knew it. Despite their differences they came together.

That night, after she'd told him that she'd leave and return, she slept again in his arms again. Still awake he remembered their differences. Kurt remembered how fragile she was, how different her world was. It was only then that he'd faltered, that he felt that maybe his father really had been right. Maybe it wasn't that they couldn't be together though; it was that they **shouldn't **be together. It was impossible and could only end in tragedy.

Amanda hadn't been asleep then. She'd seen the look in his eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her lips had touched his in a silent pledge that it didn't matter. He'd held onto her and he decided that, no matter what, he was going to believe it. Amanda believed it, and that was more than enough for him.

Always the dream would fade then and he'd waken to his reality. The reality was that their worlds really had been too different. The reality was that her blood had splattered on him, that he'd seen that brightness leave her eyes and the warmth leave her body. She was gone and he had been left behind. That was reality.

She had died and his child had died within her. Her body had been taken somewhere; he didn't know where. He couldn't imagine that they had done something as humane as buried her. The point was that she was gone. Her spirit had flown the body and, the first night that he had some grip on himself he said a silent prayer for the soul of her and their child. He could imagine that they were in heaven now; safe at last.

Yet, it seemed like his strength had died with her. Their dream of a family together was gone. Their dream of a future was gone as well. Kurt tried to focus on things after seeing her death but it was difficult. The lines between reality, memories, and dreams, were blurring together. He wondered if he was losing his mind. He wouldn't really mind if he was.

Sometimes he would see her in his mind at the lake a few miles from his home. Her daughter would be taking a nap, her head in Amanda's lap while her mother stroked her head. Her dark hair dripped with water. Kurt could see that it had been a long day for her, swimming and playing in the warm sunshine. Amanda was tired too, but content, her head leaning against the tree that they rested under.

Truthfully Kurt had never known the gender of Blue. Amanda had said she thought it would be a girl, and it was her description that haunted his dreams. That was the child that he saw by the lake every night with his wife. She was part of the family that he had wanted but would now never have.

In his dream he'd try to reach them. For every step though he became further from them somehow. Finally he teleported. When he arrived though blood dripped from Amanda's hair. Blood was on her hands and, with every touch, she had smeared it on their daughter's face. No breath stirred their bodies and he would try to scream his anguish but he couldn't. Only then would he awaken.

Kurt didn't know how long this state of affairs carried on. Yuriko constantly tried to rouse him, in great pain from some sort of operation that they had done to her. He'd offered her a few words of explanation and he could feel her horror. However, he felt disconnected even when he comforted her over the fact that her bones burned with metal. He felt lost without the strength to find himself.

One morning guards came down the hall. He could see that one carried a syringe. The design was familiar and he vaguely registered acid. Somehow Yuriko knew what was happening.

"Kid," she managed from her cell, "don't let them break you. They're going to control you, make you do things, but don't let them break you. You can't let them…if you let them it's all been for nothing…"

Her voice trailed off as the door to her own cell opened. He heard heavy footsteps. In his own cell Stryker walked in, a smirk on his face that Kurt was too lost to be angry about. Two guards moved forwards restrained him as the acid was dripped onto his neck. Unlike other times he felt a floating sensation, one that lifted him away and began disconnecting him from his body.

From the cell next door came the noises of scuffling, a struggle. It seemed far away, as though he were hearing it with someone else's ears.

"Kid," Yuriko said plaintively, her voice pained, "are you going to let them win?"

The disconnection was complete and he felt his head turn up.

"I think it's time you met the President," Stryker said.

* * *

><p>Her baby was perfect. Her eyes, when they stayed open, were big and clear. Her hair grew in quickly, curling around her ears in thick black locks at only a few months. Hank had said it was part of her mutation. No matter what caused it it made her look completely adorable.<p>

Amanda had to stifle the urge to use baby talk around Blue too much. She'd read somewhere that it would teach the baby to talk strange. Every now and then she couldn't resist. Amanda knew there was something special about her small daughter, something special enough to love cuddling and playing with her.

There were, however, downsides to being a new mother. Blue could be fussy and she'd been woken up several times in the night. A baby monitor linked their rooms. On most nights Amanda just ended up sleeping in Blue's room though. With Kurt still missing and Azazel off again Blue was the only reminder of the life she'd wanted.

Kurt and Azazel not being there also meant something else. Amanda had begun experiencing what it would be like being a new mother without any extra help. There was no father to wake up and let her rest when Blue began crying, to help play with her, or even to pick up extra tasks when she was busy. It was eerily similar to being a single mother. Amanda tried not to dwell on the connotations.

As always the Professor had been very kind. She'd invited him to hold Blue, to read to her. There was something about his stance, the way he looked at her, that told her how much this meant. His sister had run away years ago, leaving him bereft of family. Now the girl who married his nephew had come into his life and given birth to his great-niece. She thought it must feel like Christmas to him. Amanda knew what it was like to suddenly gain family after having lost it.

Rogue had also been a big help. She seemed to enjoy godmother duties, although Amanda could see that she saw Blue as a sort of living doll. That didn't mean she wasn't careful around her. Whenever she handled Blue she had to plan for it though. She always wore turtlenecks and gloves. The first time Blue batted at her she'd jerked away, as though afraid that the extra force of the touch would somehow activate her powers.

Nothing had happened and Amanda knew that nothing ever would. Rogue was too careful; careful with Blue, with Bobby, with her friends, with the world. Amanda couldn't begin to imagine what it would be like to walk through life scared that your skin would somehow hurt someone.

Amanda finished buttoning Blue's dress up. It was a small, somewhat frilly affair. She'd picked it out with Rogue three days after Blue's birth. They'd shopped in the local town, picking out jumpsuits and dresses for her. Amanda had left Blue under the watchful eye of Jean for a few hours. It had almost felt like a girl's day out.

The mansion was eerily quiet as she picked up her daughter. Most of the students had gone on a field trip to a museum. Amanda had decided to stay behind; Blue would have to be left alone again if she did. After everything she didn't feel comfortable leaving her daughter alone for too long. She was still so small.

Amanda was also still getting sick. Sulfur was still circulating through her body. Hank was there, monitoring her recovery. In a few days she would be as good as new and he would return to Washington. It comforted her to know that. She had enough to worry about with Blue without worrying about herself.

Shifting her grip on Blue she walked down the stairs. Blue leaned her head into Amanda's grasp and promptly fell asleep. Silently Amanda grinned. Blue could fall asleep in any situation. It never made sense; she liked being awake at night more than in the day. Amanda would have to work on that.

Walking downstairs she stepped into the living room. The few kids, the ones with mutations too visible to hide, were gathered around the television. Hank was watching the children. He didn't turn when she came in; his eyes were fixed to the screen.

Amanda shifted Blue again and watched the news anchor.

"It appears that there has been a failed assassination attempt of the President by persons unknown," said the anchor, "While details are still sketchy, it appears that the would-be-assassin is a mutant."

Something shifted inside her and it felt like the floor had been pulled out from under her. Amanda felt her knees go weak and her head began to swim. Although Blue hadn't been disturbed by the moment she woke up. From far away Blue began to cry. At the sound Hank turned around. He started and blinked at her expression.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Amanda swallowed.

"Yes," she said, "It just…it just felt like someone walked over my grave."

* * *

><p>"We don't have much time," Erik said.<p>

"I'm working on it," Mystique said, "I've almost got the footage. One minute is still plenty of time before their alarms sound and we get cut-off."

Azazel stood nearby, his arms crossed. He hadn't gone near a computer in many years. Mystique handled them like they were a second nature to her though. As her fingers flew across the keys he felt grateful, in a way, for that. Part of him sneered at the part of him that still loved her. He'd learned a long time ago that it wouldn't do him any good.

"Why would mutant attack President?" he said out loud.

"I'm only surprised it hasn't happened before," Erik said drily, "But the Brotherhood was never into assassinations. They attract far too much attention and can escalate the conflict very easily. Everyone knows that. Taking this knowledge into account, as well as certain circumstances, it seems reasonable to deduce that things are not as they seem."

"I've got it," Mystique said.

She shut down the computer before turning it back on. A screen with a footage file was held in the corner. Mystique clicked on it. Azazel watched impassively as guards walked through the hall. It held no interest to him and he had to stifle a yawn. It was only when he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye did he pay attention.

"Go back," he ordered.

Mystique glanced at him briefly before turning back to the screen. She hadn't said a word to him after Azazel had told her that she wasn't a grandmother. However, she did hear him because she moved the footage back several seconds. They watched and Azazel saw it again, his teeth clenching.

"Derr`mo," he said.

"What is it?" asked Erik.

"Pull back video," Azazel said.

Mystique did so. Azazel pointed to the corner of the screen. It looked almost as though there were a blip in the video, a distortion. Erik glanced at him, waiting for an explanation. Irritated at his lack of comprehension Azazel teleported to another spot. Almost instantly he teleported again. The human eye wouldn't even have time to see that there was a person in between the explosions of smoke.

On black and white footage it would appear as a smudge.

"I see," Erik said slowly.

Azazel stopped and caught Mystique's eye. There was a very even look in her yellow eyes, one that was almost scared.

"They took syn," Azazel said, "And forced him to try and do assassination. Mastermind serum, da?"

He spat out his last words.

"It would appear so," Erik said.

His tone was troubled. Azazel picked up on it and narrowed his eyes.

"What?" he asked.

"It's just…I'm not sure how to say this Azazel," Erik said.

"Say it," Azazel hissed.

Erik looked hat him levelly.

"Alright then," replied Erik, "I'm going to be completely honest here; I don't think that Stryker will have much use for Kurt now that he's done his job. I don't see why he would keep him around."

Azazel started at Erik's words. Dimly he saw Mystique's grip on the mouse tighten. The thought was new but it made a chilling amount of sense. He swallowed hard and looked at the blip that represented the most he'd seen of his son in months. The frightening possibility that it could be the last he saw of him flooded into his mind.


	38. Chapter 38

Kurt was tired and his head pounded like someone was striking it with a hammer. His muscles, though they seemed distant, were sore from their exertions. Everything seemed tense. His shoulder burned where it had been shot and his mind was seared with images of the act he had nearly committed.

He walked meekly between the two soldiers that were escorting him. He could feel the acid waning from him, his consciousness coming back in short bursts. They had known it too; the collar that blocked his powers had once again been locked around his throat. Once again he was trapped, being led back to his dark prison with new sins weighing on his soul.

The building was different though. He could recognize this in the corner of his mind that was still completely his. It wasn't as damp and he had a feeling that he wasn't underground anymore. It didn't change the fact that his captors were the same people who had murdered his family. It didn't change what he had nearly done; taken a life simply because he'd been told to.

Stryker walked out of a side room, smirking broadly. Kurt's heart clenched in a mixture of hatred and fear; the man before him held the power. Yuriko stood by him impassively. Her dilated eyes stared at him and he returned the gaze, not out of choice, but because she was standing in front of him. They were both imprisoned now with no hope of escape.

"What should we do with this one sir?" one of the soldiers standing by him asked.

Stryker shrugged.

"He's done his job. Wipe his memory and dump him somewhere," said Stryker, "He can serve as a distraction if the police find him; but don't give him to them directly. We can't be connected with this in any way."

"As you say sir," the soldier said.

He turned Kurt away and began to lead him down the hallway. Just before they left he caught another glance from Yuriko, her face still dazed like he knew his was.

_"Kid, are you going to let them win?"_

She had said it like they had a choice. Kurt knew that neither of them had a choice, not even at the beginning. They had been pawns and nothing more. Amanda and his child had been killed so he could be forced to try and assassinate the president; he didn't know why then. He didn't know what Stryker wanted with Yuriko, but he figured it would be something equally disdainful. No matter what it was she would have to do it.

As the drug began to wane his head cleared some more. Perhaps this had been his fate. He had been born into a world that feared him but had been raised in kindness. Whether he had known it or not he had always lived in a dangerous world. Kurt had never had a choice in the matter though; it had been his lot since birth.

Amanda had had that choice. She could have lived in safety but instead passed into his world. The two of them had foolishly hoped that they could live together in a world that they made themselves. Instead he had dragged her into his. As a result of that he'd had her blood stain him and heard her dying gasps.

He'd never had the choice for a safe life though, not even when Amanda came into his life. Kurt had never had the choice for anything, and he was seeing it now. He had been powerless to save her and in the end, that's what he was; powerless. He'd never had the power to make a choice that would do anything in the end.

_"And I thought, so much happened because I did not know better," his father said, "So much because I did not have choice. But you are going to know better, you are going to have choice in what happens."_

Kurt blinked. The memory of him and his father in the meadow all those years ago had flooded his mind so suddenly. He blinked again, feeling some control in his fingertips as the soldiers continued to lead him away. His father's words about choices echoed in his head, becoming louder each time they did so.

_"I teach you swords so you have a choice," said Azazel, "If you know how to defend yourself you won't have watch as things happen around you if every you are threatened. You will make decisions, you will be the one who is in control. That is gift I want to give to you."_

His hands flexed and his eyes took in the room, alert suddenly. His father's words mixed with Yuriko's question.

_"Are __**you**__-"_

_"__You will make decisions, you will be the one who is in control."_

_"-going to let __**them**__-"_

_"But you are going to know better, you are going to have choice in what happens."_

_"-__**win**__?"_

His hand clenched into a fist. Kurt clamped down on his teeth tightly. That way he wouldn't be able to bite his tongue. Then, with great concentration, he slipped his tail under his collar. The spade dug into his skin, making blood trickle down his back. The pain was incredible but he remained silent and continued moving as the spade sliced deeper.

At long last it was behind his collar. Pushing it outwards he forced the locking mechanism to break. The collar fell apart and collapsed on the floor. The soldiers turned, paying attention to him for the first time since Stryker had ordered him to have his memory removed. It was far too late.

Kurt teleported to the space behind the first one, kicking him with enough force to knock him and his adjacent soldier into the wall. Before they could get up he teleported next to them and knocked their heads further into the wall. When he was satisfied that they were unconscious he began rooting through their gear. Finally he found what he was hunting for; hunting knives, standard issue. They weren't swords, but they would have to do.

He teleported down the hall that Stryker had disappeared down. He needed to find him. It was too late for Amanda, for Blue, but it wasn't too late for Yuriko. It wasn't too late for the countless others that Stryker was torturing at the moment. If he found him, if he stopped him by whatever means necessary, then he would be able to stop what had happened to him from ever happening again.

At the same time that he travelled Kurt realized the unlikelihood of being able to stop Stryker simply by incapacitating him. He knew that Stryker was the kind of man who refused to be stopped no matter what. As he fought he knew that he was going to have to kill him, not for revenge, but to stop him. Otherwise he would just find a way to carry on.

There were more soldiers down the hall. He calculated the distance; he couldn't teleport past them without knowing what was on the other side of the wall. Instead he teleported within their midst, driving the knives into their shoulders and joints. His tail whipped around them, picking them up and throwing them down.

Bullets were sent through the air. Some found the side of his chest, filling him with burning pain to match the pain in his neck and shoulder. He teleported away and saw that they'd only skimmed him. He had to keep moving though. He couldn't afford getting slowed down or stopped. Kurt still had to find Stryker.

Someone, somewhere, tripped the alarm. The wailing filled his ears. He teleported up the stairs and past the soldiers running at him. Kurt looked out the window and saw an unfamiliar city outside, shrouded by night. He ignored it and pushed on. Now wasn't the time to wonder about where he was or how he would find his father when it was all over. He would worry about such things after Stryker was stopped.

Another group of soldiers ran at him. Tranquilizers shot past him, but this time he wasn't a sick invalid in bed. He had ceased to be an easy target and he'd prove that to them. Kurt teleported around them, his feet and tail swinging. Adrenaline was making him forget about his pain, seeing only that he needed to complete his objective. These soldiers were standing in his way and they needed to be gotten rid of.

Blood dripped from his knives but he never aimed to kill, had never aimed to kill. Azazel had never trained him to use his weapons lethally except in extreme situations. His wounds were slowing him down but he still managed to never give a killing blow. Like him these men were mere pawns. The only difference was that they happened to be on the other side of the board. Killing them would only bring more guilt onto his soul.

As he finished he heard a thrumming noise. The noise was getting louder and he realized it was coming from outside. Kurt teleported up a flight of stairs onto the roof. A helicopter stood there, its blades whipping around. He glimpsed Stryker on it before it took off into the air, leaving him behind.

His lips curled as Stryker's face was obscured by a soldier. He put together something Kurt supposed was a gun and began shooting. Kurt barely even paid him attention. They thought that they could get away in a helicopter from a teleporter when they were in plain view? The helicopter was in the air, yes, but it was within a two-mile radius of the ground, if that. They didn't have any clue how strong his powers were.

Kurt concentrated and, a second later, he stood next to the soldier. He smashed his head into the side of the helicopter, knocking him out. He turned around to see Yuriko unbuckling, her eyes unfocused. His heart sank. It was one thing fighting all those soldiers. They were doing this of their own free will. Yuriko wasn't.

She lunged at him and he managed to dodge. The punch that would have gotten his jaw dented the side of the helicopter. Kurt gaped at her for a moment, wondering if that was part of her mutation or it was a result of the metal they'd put in her bones. He didn't wonder about it for long because she lunged for him again.

He sidestepped her and saw Stryker just beyond her. Kurt completely forgot about Yuriko. He teleported into the next room, much to Stryker's surprise. In many books he had read, when the hero encountered the enemy who had slain his family, there was something he said to him. Kurt didn't say anything. Stryker knew what he had done and his goal wasn't to make him cringe and snivel in his last moments. It was just to stop him.

Kurt shoved his knife forwards and Stryker twisted out of the way. Even so the knife plunged deep into his shoulder. Stryker cried out and the sound made Kurt sick to his stomach. He pulled out the knife though, knowing he would have to try it again. If he didn't he wouldn't have stopped anything.

Just as he readied the knife for another blow he felt something hard and forceful smash into his injured shoulder. He had just enough time to recognize Yuriko through the stinging pain before she kicked him out of the helicopter. Kurt fell, teleporting randomly to try and decrease the length of his fall. He teleported into a tree, smashing his head painfully against a tree branch and losing consciousness.

When he came to the helicopter was gone. The adrenaline that had bolstered him had faded and he felt the pain from his wounds keenly. Taking gasping breaths he looked back at the building he had come from. It was swarming with soldiers, and he knew that every one of those soldiers was looking for him.

Kurt took a deep breath and tried to block out the pain. He needed to get out of there. Stryker, unfortunately would have to wait. His wounds would only slow him down and he needed to heal. There were a great may other things he needed to do as well, and there was only one place that he knew of where he could do them.

* * *

><p>Charles looked up in Cerebro. A broken path entered his vision, trailing through Boston, Massachusetts. He chased after it, thinking that it was Azazel. He'd lost his trail for several days and gaining it back would bring comfort that something was being done in the search for his nephew. Soon it came to rest and he focused in more. He had to be careful about how much he concentrated; despite their previous enmity he didn't want to hurt them.<p>

He stopped in an abandoned church in Boston. As an image came to his eyes but it wasn't of Azazel. The image was of someone similar, but not him. Charles paused as he saw a three fingered hand light a candle in the crumbling church. Tears slipped down Kurt's eyes and Charles felt the waves of sadness that his mind exuded.

"In company vith Christ, who died und now lives, may zey rejoice in Your kingdom," Kurt whispered, "vhere all our tears are viped avay. Unite us togezer again in one family, to sing Your praise forever und ever. Amen."

Charles pulled back. He took the helmet off his head and wheeled himself out of the room. He hastened through the halls and up the elevator. When he reached Amanda's room he was more composed, feeling a little less anxious. He didn't want to get her hopes up that he could be found so quickly; he didn't know if he'd stay there.

Amanda opened the door, Blue in her arms. She'd been resting like Hank prescribed and he could see her confusion. He gave her what he hoped was a convincing smile before saying;

"Amanda, I need to get in contact with Azazel. I know you know how."

She hesitated, shifting Blue.

"Is this about what happened with the President?" she asked.

"In a way," he said.

She bit her lip. He knew she didn't want to betray her father-in-law.

"Amanda, I wouldn't ask if it wasn't urgent."

Amanda nodded and went over to her bureau. She pulled the phone out and put it carefully in his hands. He thanked her and promised to return it before he left and dialed the number she'd written on the back of it. Charles had to wait only seconds before he heard the line picked up.

"Nevetska?"

"No, Azazel," said Charles, "It's Xavier."

He could tell that Azazel was considering hanging up so he said;

"I found Kurt with Cerebro. He's on 114 West Magnolia in Boston, Massachusetts."

There was a stunned silence on the other end.

"You are sure?"

"Positive."

"And you came to me," Azazel said slowly, "did not tell X-men to get."

"You're his father," Charles said, "and…from Cerebro I could tell something was wrong. He needs someone he knows, and Amanda isn't quite well enough to travel."

There was a pause.

"Spaseebo balshoye," Azazel said at last.

Then the phone went dead.


	39. Chapter 39

_**A/N: **The website has been giving me problems all day. I was just able to access my account now. Sorry this is late!_

* * *

><p>It appears that our teleporter has taken off again," Erik said.<p>

Mystique briefly looked up from the file that she was decoding. It flashed against the screen and she wrote down the translation. Since Azazel had yanked them from one of Stryker's headquarters two weeks before she had been busy trying to crack the code on the remaining files. The file names were on the paper; she just hadn't had time to download them decoded. It was slow going, nothing like the fast-paced downloads she had been doing at the facility.

Now that Stryker knew someone was hacking into his files she was never going to get that opportunity again.

"He's keeping something from us," she said.

"Of course he is," Erik said.

"I'd be willing to bet it's where he hid Kurt's wife and my grandchild," Mystique said.

There was a pause, one that Mystique lasted just a little too long.

"Again, it's both obvious and understandable," Erik said, shrugging, "He trusted us enough to save his son, but not with all his secrets. Considering the particular…history I believe that this is reasonable."

"It's not reasonable," Mystique snapped, "He can't even look at me when he says my son's name and he wouldn't tell me a damn thing about my grandchild. I don't even know if it's a boy or a girl. Kurt's still missing and I know he knows more than he's telling us."

Erik raised an eyebrow and sat across from her. His gaze was uncomfortable and Mystique put down her pen.

"What?" she demanded.

"Nothing my dear," Erik said, "The idea just comes to me that you're rather indignant about a child that you abandoned twenty-one years ago."

Snarling Mystique got to her feet.

"Damn it Erik, whose side are you on!" she yelled.

Erik sighed and leaned back.

"I am simply stating the facts," he said, "As for whose side am I on, well. I believe that you made the right choice; our cause is more important than the wants and needs of any individual. Sacrifices must be made for the greater good."

"Good," Mystique said, sitting down again.

He held up a hand for silence.

"You should have let me finish. I do believe you made the right choice. However, I can also respect Azazel's choice in deciding his son was more important," Erik finished, "even if it did cost me one of my best soldiers."

Her hand clenched into a fist.

"You don't understand," she said, "You don't have children."

"I'm not sure you do is the thing," Erik said pointedly.

Slowly she let out a breath and uncurled her fist. When she spoke it was between gritted teeth.

"All of you act like the decision I made was easy, like it didn't cost me anything," Mystique said, "but it did. It cost me a lot."

"Did you realize just how much it was going to cost you?" asked Erik.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she demanded, "I loved him Erik, and I loved the child we made together. He was perfect. And Azazel insisted I couldn't have both lives. Would you give up your children for our cause, if you had any?"

Erik tilted his head to the side, considering the question.

"Yes," he said after a moment, "I believe I would."

"Then I think you might have a better idea of where I'm coming from," said Mystique, "Of what I went through."

"Again, you didn't let me finish," Erik said, his eyes like ice, "I would understand that if I did that, I would lose them."

His voice was oddly flat, devoid of emotion. Mystique looked at him, held by his unflinching gaze.

"Not for a few days, not for a few months. I would lose them forever," continued Erik, "Because my mother once showed me what a parent was supposed to be. A parent puts their child first, reassures them when they're terrified themselves."

One of Erik's hands went up to touch his face, allowing him to rest his chin on it. His eyes flickered down for a moment, seeing something that she couldn't.

"And if I violated that, if I did not perform that one duty, then I would understand that I had forfeited the right to be their father. I would forfeit any expectation that they would understand, any chance to explain it to them," he said, "I would be delighted if they would understand but the truth of the matter is that they probably wouldn't and really shouldn't. I would appreciate that they would have every right to hate me. I would understand, also, that I had brought it on myself. And I would carry on."

His eyes met hers again and her mouth opened slightly. There was nothing but silence for a few minutes before Mystique whispered;

"Erik…what aren't you telling me?"

Erik's eyes hardened and he got up.

"Nothing," he said, "Continue with the codes, we're going to need them when Azazel comes back."

* * *

><p>The church was crumbling, its windows and doors boarded. Azazel thought back to the address that Charles had told him. Yes, it was the place. It also made sense for Kurt to take refuge there. For his entire life the Church had been a place of sanctuary and safety. If he were in an unfamiliar place he would go there first. He might doubt the people, but he wouldn't doubt the holiness of the sight.<p>

Azazel teleported into the sanctuary. It was full of dead leaves and dust. His lip curled at the blatant disrespect. Even if they had closed the church down someone should take care of it. It was like it had been forgotten by its patrons. There were still a few hymn books in the pews, their pages as dusty as the ground.

There was only one flicker of life in the entire church. A remembrance candle had been lit towards the front, its light small in the gloom. Azazel frowned and walked up to it. At the last minute he remembered to cross himself. Some habits died hard after living for over two decades where his primary contacts were monks.

He walked to the middle of the church and pulled down his hood. Azazel thought that he heard a creak of the ceiling beams. He cleared his throat.

"Malchick moy," he called, "It is only me."

There was no reply. The ceiling beams creaked some more and Azazel had to resist the urge to look up.

"It is alright," he said, "Everything is alright. It is me."

There was still no answer. Azazel took in a deep breath, trying to dispel his confusion. He knew that Kurt was there, and there was no reason for him not to answer him. Azazel couldn't fathom his reticence. This was his son. Kurt trusted him. He wouldn't continue to hide when he must have known that his father was looking for him.

There was some more creaking. Rubbing his temples Azazel began listening intently. After a few minutes he began to think about where Kurt must be in relation to him. It was a distance he could teleport to easily. With another breath he teleported himself next to where he figured Kurt would be.

He looked up and saw his son a few feet away from him. Blood stains covered his clothes, some Azazel knew that wasn't his. The ones that he knew were his were enough to chill him, but he knew that Kurt would have at least tried to staunch his wounds. He couldn't have escaped that long ago, those wounds would be fresh. That meant that there was little time for infection to set in and Azazel could easily doctor him.

What surprised him was that Kurt teleported away from him. Azazel blinked and swished his tail. It reminded him of a game they played when Kurt was young and testing their powers. It was like tag only there was no running allowed. The game was innocent but somehow this new game of tag seemed more ominous.

Whenever Azazel thought he had caught him Kurt would teleport again. Azazel knew that he could try to put in for endurance. His son wasn't looking too good and couldn't teleport too much. If Kurt was truly determined to get away though he could teleport miles away. Azazel didn't want to risk that.

So he began to think of Kurt as a target, as though he were fighting him. Kurt had been trained by him so he had a pretty good idea of where he would go next. Azazel began teleporting faster, almost to the point that he got to the places Kurt was going before he did. When he finally got to the location first he tackled his son. Now Kurt couldn't teleport away without taking them both with him.

They hit the ground of the sanctuary hard. He was able to get it so they didn't crash into any pews. Even when they fell he tried to soften the blow with himself but maintain his grip. Kurt was injured and he didn't want to aggravate his wounds. Once they had come to a stop he flipped him over. Azazel pinned his arms to the ground, panting, and trapped him there. There was no way he could get away now.

"Syn!" he said.

Kurt's eyes looked up and focused on him. The depth of pain there shocked Azazel, along with the revelation that Kurt was crying.

"Vatti…" he said, closing his eyes and turning away, "I am sorry but I could not...after vhat happened..."

Ice and fire seeped into his veins.

"Kurt…what is wrong?" asked Azazel.

"It vas mien fault," he whispered, his voice pained, "I…I could not save her. I could not…I vas not strong enough…I…"

"What are you talking about?" Azazel demanded.

Kurt looked up at him again, his face contorted in pain.

"Amanda," he whispered, "I…you gave me ein choice, but I could not make it, vas not…I…did not…"

Azazel tilted his head in confusion. He breathed in and tried to marshall his thoughts.

"Syn," he said, "I will let you up. You will nyet run away. And we will talk. You will tell me what you mean."

Kurt gave a sharp nod and Azazel released him. Kurt sat up, his head bowed. Azazel noticed his son's hasty wrappings of his wounds and made a mental note to check it later. Instead of saying anything he waited patiently, his hate for Stryker growing. Something the man had done had hurt his son deeply, scarred him somehow. He bottled up that rage and placed it away for the time when he would meet him face to face.

"I vas captured, und zey used zis acid..." Kurt murmured.

"I know," Azazel said, "Mastermind serum. You would nyet attack president otherwise."

Kurt looked up.

"You think I did nyet to research?" asked Azazel.

A smile began and died on Kurt's lips. He bowed his head again, his face dark.

"I vas in room, tied up. I could not move," he said, "Und…Stryker vas his name…und…he came in und…I…"

Azazel's face hardened and he had to bite back the list of profanities he wanted to scream at Stryker at the moment.

"What did he do?" Azazel asked.

Kurt choked back a sob.

"He killed Amanda."

Azazel started, felling something icy drain into his mind. Something of Kurt's hysteria and unbalance was seeping into his head. He stopped it at the last minute. No, that couldn't be true. He had seen her only two weeks ago, had left her safe with his granddaughter in Westchester.

"Nyet," Azazel said.

"He did," said Kurt, his voice broken, "I vatched him kill her, her und our child. Did not even get chance to live…she vas screaming…"

His son buried his head in his hands. Azazel moved closer and grabbed Kurt by his shoulders.

"Kurt," he said sharply, "nevetska is nyet dead. I put her in safe place-"

"Nein, Stryker killed her-"

"**Nyet**!" said Azazel, his voice fierce, "Listen to me, Amanda is alive. She gave birth to child two weeks ago!"

Kurt looked up, his face a war between pain and confusion.

"You…nein…I vatched her die," he said.

"Then Stryker made you **think **that is what you saw," Azazel said, "He has serum makes you do what wants, why cannot have serum or some such make you **think **this? Why nyet Kurt? Why nyet?"

He saw the conflict raging in his son's eyes. Kurt turned his face away but Azazel jerked him so he was looking at him.

"Daughter is named Cerise, after me," Azazel said, his voice low, "You decide this with Amanda but did nyet tell me; it was to be surprise for when reboynak was born. You did nyet tell me, so how else would I know? Amanda and daughter are alive Kurt!"

The hesitancy was still there, tempered with belief.

"I saw…I need to see her," Kurt said, his voice pleading, "I need to see zem both vatti."

Azazel allowed himself to relax. He thought of the phone that he had left at the hideout in his haste. He could have Kurt hear her voice almost immediately, although a physical sense would have to be stimulated as well. Still, it would tide him over. His son's fears coudl be easily laid to rest.

"You will," said Azazel, "but first we will make sure nothing infected. You put up quite struggle."

He smiled weakly and saw his son return the gesture. He knew that it would be quite some time before Kurt was alright though. As he helped him up Kurt stumbled slightly and Azazel had to steady him. Azazel realized that his son would never be quite the same. However, the best hope Kurt had of becoming himself again was seeing his wife and newborn child. He'd get him to Westchester, and quickly.

There was nothing more important than that. Even Stryker's death could wait.


	40. Chapter 40

_September 21, 1985_

Logan pulled up to the mansion. The last few feet the motorcycle puttered and he saw puffs of smoke come from the tailpipe. Frowning he turned and looked at the fuel gauge on the motorcycle. He'd run it to empty. He smirked to himself. It was something for old one-eye to deal with now.

Getting off he slung his backpack on and walked to the school. With one hand he flung open the door. A few of the children gave him cursory glances but more just kept walking. If they recognized him or not they could see that he wasn't there to threaten them. The children at Westchester were, for the most part, good at recognizing potential threats. They had to be.

"Logan!"

He turned and saw Rogue run down the hall towards him. He smiled and gave her a one armed hug as she flung herself at him. Logan took in her gloves and scarf. Her skin was still giving her trouble. She seemed happy enough though, and for that he was grateful. Rogue always seemed to have a rough time.

"Hey kid," he said, "How's it going?"

"'ya know," she said brightly, "School's not too bad. Givin' the geeks one more chance an' all o' that."

His smirk widened when he heard his words quoted back to him. From further down the hall came footsteps. A girl with long blonde hair and a boy that was vaguely familiar walked up. The boy gave him a strange look and Logan raised his eyebrows. He seemed awfully young to be trying to intimidate someone twice his size and age.

"Logan, this is Bobby," she said, "He's mah frie-"

"Boyfriend," Bobby corrected, holding out his hand.

Logan took it and Bobby smirked. Ice started to form over Logan's hand and he furrowed his brow. He certainly wasn't in a normal high school.

"Call me Iceman," Bobby said.

Logan broke his hand away and cocked his head.

"So, boyfriend eh?" he said, "How do the two of you…?"

He trailed off suggestively. Rogue blushed and some of the bravado slipped off of Bobby's face.

"We're working on it," he said.

"Mmm," Logan said.

He looked at the blonde girl, lighting a cigar.

"Planning on freezing my hand too?" he asked.

"You know, as fun as that sounds, it's not my area of expertise," she said.

Logan smirked and put the cigar in between his lips. Obviously eager for a way out of the last awkward exchange Rogue stepped up.

"This is Amanda," she said, "She's mah friend."

"And Rogue's the godmother of my daughter," Amanda said brightly.

Rogue nodded proudly. Logan's eyebrows raised to his hairline. Amanda couldn't have left her teens yet and she had a daughter?

"You don't say," Logan said, "Kids these days are startin' fast."

Rogue shot him a look but Amanda held his gaze politely. He could feel the undercurrent of irritation in her voice when she spoke.

"Yes, I do. As for other kids, I don't know. I had my daughter two weeks ago," she said, "And I'm starting to wonder if I should start introducing myself has having been married for a couple of months beforehand. It would certainly cut down on those weird little looks. People, you know?"

Her smile remained glued to her face as she turned to Rogue.

"I think Blue's going to wake up from her nap in a few minutes," she said, "I'd best be there when she does."

Without another word she headed up the stairs. Rogue sighed deeply.

"Logan," she said.

"Hey, she set herself up for that," he said.

"The last guy who insinuated something negative about her husband and marital status got hot soup poured in his lap," said Bobby, "I don't think John's gotten over it yet."

"He had i' comin'," Rogue said firmly.

"Remind me not to eat around her," said Logan.

Rogue laughed as Ororo came down the stairs.

"Logan, you've returned," she said.

"Looks like," he said.

"You're just in time," Ororo said, reaching the ground level, "The Professor wants to talk to you. He's just gotten out of Cerebro."

"What a coincidence," said Logan, "As it happens I need to talk to him too."

"Obviously," Ororo said.

She turned her head towards Bobby and Rogue. Ororo raised her eyebrows.

"Don't you two have Calculus in two minutes?" she asked.

"Crap," said Bobby, "Come on Rogue."

Rogue gave Logan a smile before hurrying after her boyfriend. Ororo tilted her head down the hallway. Logan shoved his hands in his pockets before walking down the staircase. It never ceased to surprise him just how many tunnels were beneath the school. He wondered if they had been built after the original building, but there were so many of them that made him wonder about the overall structural stability.

Charles had just finished wheeling himself out of Cerebro when Logan ran into him. Logan chomped on his cigar and walked up to him.

"Hey wheels," he said.

Charles tilted his head.

"This is a school you know," he said, "You need to stop smoking in it."

Logan chomped extra heavily on his cigar but didn't put it out. It wasn't as though Charles actually expected he would do it.

"I went to that base at Alkali lake," Logan said, "it was abandoned."

"I see."

Impatiently Logan waited for Charles to say something else. When he didn't he added;

"I need you to read my mind again."

"There are some things that the mind should uncover on its own," said Charles, "Whether you know it or not I have given you the tools you need. You simply need to use them."

"Look, Chuck," Logan said irritably, "I'm not-"

"Oh, look who's back. I trust you didn't wreck the bike?'

Rolling his eyes Logan turned as Scott walked into the hall.

"She's out of gas," Logan said, throwing him the keys.

"Fill her up," said Scott, throwing the keys back.

Logan briefly contemplated throwing the keys so they imbedded in his skull. No sooner had he thought that then Charles said;

"Both of you, enough."

He rolled his eyes again.

"By the way Chuck," Logan said, "What's with the teen mom upstairs? One of your students knock her up or something?"

Across from him he saw Scott struggle between a frown and smirk.

"By the 'teen mom' I suppose you mean Amanda," said Charles, "And her husband, as well as the father of her child, happens to be my nephew."

The smirk won out on Scott's face.

"Huh," was all Logan said.

"Yes, I would appreciate it if you refrained from such comments," Charles continued, "I heard there was an altercation in the cafeteria in a similar situation."

"I've already been warned," Logan said.

"Good," said Charles, "Now, I was going to ask you if you were familiar with an organization known as the Mutant Response Division?"

He searched his impaired memory and came up with nothing.

"Not that I can remember," said Logan.

"There's one lead down," said Scott, "So far details are sketchy. To our knowledge they've already forcibly kidnapped one mutant."

"And you know this how?" Logan asked.

Scott gave him an even look.

"Why do you think Amanda's here and not with her husband?"

"Noted," Logan said, "And I thought Magneto would be your big threat right now, what with him escaping from prison and all."

"I believe him to be occupied with something that shouldn't harm anyone," said Charles, "We're focusing our efforts on this for the moment. I would appreciate it if you would assist us in your efforts."

Logan paused, finishing with his cigar.

"Depends," he said, "Do you feel like giving me some more of those tools you mentioned?"

Charles sighed and rubbed his temples.

"If you insist."

Casually Logan flicked the remains of his cigar onto the floor where Scott looked at it disapprovingly.

"Then I'm in."

* * *

><p>The teleportations that were required to bring Kurt to the safe house were more numerous than Azazel would have liked. However, they both got there in one piece. His son was obviously still in pain, but there was nothing he could do about it. Azazel had to patch him up, get him to Amanda and Cerise, and then kill Stryker. They had to be in that order as well.<p>

He teleported Kurt into his room. Kurt had looked around, confused.

"Vatti, vhere are ve?"

"Safe place," Azazel answered, "Among friends. Dangerous friends, but friends. Now, we must not let wounds get infected."

Kurt had to take his shirt off so he could get to most of the wounds. He laid on his stomach and let his father apply the necessary bandages. He hissed in pain when the alcohol was applied but he had to do it or risk infection. The bullet wounds were already far too numerous in Azazel's mind. The bruises, which he could do nothing about, were too many in number as well.

It was the back of Kurt's neck that made him flinch. The deep-set acid burn was bad enough. The deep gash that went across it up to his ear was worse.

"How did you get this?" he asked.

"Zey haf collars," Kurt said, "Took avay teleportation. I had to get off vhen I…vhen I…"

Azazel dabbed more rubbing alcohol on the wound.

"For when what?" he asked.

"Vhen I tried to kill Stryker."

His heartbeat quickened. Trying not to sound indelicate he asked;

"Did you get him?"

"Nein," Kurt said, sounding tired, "Knife missed. Stabbed in shoulder. Vas zrown out of helicopter aftervards."

His son didn't sound proud but Azazel couldn't help feeling the emotion himself. Stryker wasn't dead but he was certainly going to spend his final days in a great deal of discomfort.

"I see," he said, "Do nyet worry. We will find him later and make sure he is stopped. But first we get you to Amanda and Cerise, da?"

"Ja," Kurt whispered, "Bitte."

Azazel finished bandaging him and gave him some medication to let him sleep. He looked like he hadn't slept in a long time. When he was sure that his son was asleep he teleported downstairs into a side room. Once there he tried to give a quick call to Amanda. Azazel wanted Kurt to at least hear her voice when he woke up and Azazel wanted her to be ready to take the call.

Flicking his tail he waited after dialing. He frowned when the call didn't go through. It was something to look into in a few hours when he saw her. Putting the phone in his pocket he teleported into the dining room. As he had expected Erik and Mystique were seated at the table. Neither were looking at each other, but both looked up when he came in.

"You really need to stop doing this," said Erik, "I'm not sure if you remember, it was a long time ago, but when someone in the Brotherhood disappeared it generally made it more difficult for the rest of us."

"I remember," Azazel said, "I will only leave once more."

"Well where the hell were you this time?" snapped Mystique.

He raised his eyebrows.

"I had tip where syn was," said Azazel, "I follow."

"Did it occur to you that this may have been a trap?" asked Erik.

"Nyet," said Azazel, crackin his shoulder, "Reliable source. Nyet into traps. Besides, today is lucky day. Was genuine. I found syn. He is upstairs resting."

Mystique started and Azazel turned his back on her to fully address Erik.

"He escaped," Azazel said, "In rough condition but escaped. Managed stab Stryker in shoulder once. Nyet bad for someone who was drugged."

"Your son indeed," Erik smirked.

"Da," said Azazel.

Erik's smirk faded as he jerked his head towards Mystique.

"Mystique uncovered information about Stryker's next attack," he said, pulling a piece of a decoded file onto the table, "We're going to have to leave soon to prevent it, or at least render our assistance."

Assistance wasn't something Erik offered often. Raising his eyebrows he scanned over the sheet. His heart rose into his throat. Today wasn't turning out to be so lucky after all.

"On second thought," he said, "I do nyet think I will be leaving again."


	41. Chapter 41

Amanda opened the cupboard and peered in. Blue was asleep in her arms after twenty minutes of singing and rocking her. Now all Amanda had to do was find a way to get to sleep herself. Some of the after effects of the medicine she'd been taking was an inability to sleep properly, and Blue's midnight arias weren't helping.

She picked out a glass and placed it on the table. Bobby sat tehre, eating ice cream right out of the carton with a spoon. She would have been disgusted if she hadn't found out that that carton was specified for him. Apparently he had difficulty sleeping if he wasn't the perfect temperature. The ice cream had been prescribed by Jean.

They had met several times in the middle of the night, having nonsensical conversations while they searched for Morpheus. She'd begun to know all of the mansion's nocturnal residents quite well since Blue's birth. Once or twice she'd even watched TV with Artie, his eyes making the channel change with each blink.

Amanda went to the refridgerator and took out a carton of chocolate milk. She poured herself a glass and sat down at the table. The milk had helped in the past but it was more there for something to do while she waited to become tired. Blue pawed at the air with her hands before shifting, her eyes closed all the time. Bobby looked over at her daughter and smiled.

"She's cute," he said.

"She's adorable," said Amanda, "when she's sleeping."

They both let out a quiet laugh. One of her fingers reached out and stroked a thick black lock of her daughter's hair. Bobby smiled at her again before eating a large spoonful of ice cream. Footsteps clattered down the hallway and they both looked up. Logan stood in the doorway, staring at them quizzically.

"Hey," Bobby said.

Logan shook his head and sighed.

"Doesn't anyone sleep around here?" he asked.

"Apparently not," Bobby observed.

He opened the fridge and sighed in frustration.

"Got any beer?" he asked.

Amanda stifled laughter and Bobby gave a disbelieving smirk.

"This is a school," he said.

"So that's a no?" asked Logan, looking over his shoulder.

"Yeah, that's a no," Bobby confirmed.

Logan's eyes slid over to Amanda and what she was drinking.

"Got anything other than chocolate milk?" asked Logan, irritated.

"There should be sodas in the small cupboard," Amanda said.

Logan pulled a bottle from the cupboard. He was about to drink it before he paused and extended it to Bobby. Without pausing Bobby blew on it slightly, chilling its contents.

"Thanks," Logan said.

"No problem," replied Bobby.

He took a deep draught. Logan sat down at the table too, resting his soda on the counter. At the scrap of his chair Blue let out a little mewling noise. Amanda rocked her for a few seconds until she was satisfied that Blue was back to sleep. When she looked up she saw Logan staring at her.

"Yes?" she asked, ready to come up with a more biting comeback than she'd been able to manage earlier in the day.

He hesitated before saying;

"Nice kid."

Amanda shifted Blue. From what Rogue had told her Logan was something of an asshole, but she knew her friend wouldn't blindly give her loyalty. She supposed that the compliment was his way of apologizing. It wasn't a particularly good one, but it was more than Amanda figured she'd get from people who'd make those comments in the future.

"Thanks," she said, "She looks a lot like her papa."

"Hm," said Logan, "Heard what happened from Chuck. Sorry."

Her throat clogged and she looked down.

"My father-in-law's going to find him," Amanda said, "He promised, and when I say he doesn't take his promises lightly, he means it."

There was an awkward silence that followed. Bobby finished with his mouthful of ice cream and waved it around.

"I was thinking we should make a club of people who can't sleep," he said, "We all pool our resources and get some of those sleep aides that are coming out."

Amanda laughed.

"If it would help for Artie he'd already have them," said Amanda, "And they clash with the other meds I'm taking."

"Don't work on me either kid," Logan said, "Anesthesia, all that stuff, my system just rejects it."

"Geez," said Bobby, "No wonder you're grumpy all the time."

"Come again kid?" asked Logan, his bottle of soda halfway to his lips.

"He's got a point," Amanda said.

Logan shrugged before drinking from his soda bottle. When he finished he looked at Bobby.

"So," he said, "you and Rogue."

"Yeah," Bobby said, "it's not like you think. I mean, I'd like it to be but…"

He trailed off when he saw Logan's expression. Amanda winced. Had he really thought about those words before he said them? She didn't think so. Amanda wished she had telepathy so she could tell Bobby to shut up about that to Rogue's father figure. Luckily he seemed to get the message. Bobby swallowed awkwardly before continuing.

"I mean, it's not easy when you want to be closer to someone," he said, looking into the depths of the ice cream carton, "but you can't."

Amanda swallowed and looked at the ring on her finger. Two weeks wasn't a month; Azazel hadn't broken his promise. She couldn't help that she was on edge, that she wanted Kurt in her arms right then. She wanted to see for herself that he was safe, to show him the daughter that looked so much like him.

"You know I've seen how you look at Dr. Grey," Bobby said quietly.

Logan put down his soda. Amanda wondered if it was Bobby's second nature to put his foot in his mouth around Logan.

"Excuse me?" Logan asked sharply.

"Nothing," shrugged Bobby, not backing down this time.

Logan went to take another sip before he paused. He winced and cocked his head to the side before getting to his feet.

"What is it?" Bobby asked.

"Shhh," said Logan.

Logan got up and moved out of the room into the hallway. As he walked by Amanda she could see that his nostrils flaring. Amanda got up, her grip on Blue increasing. She shared a worried look with Bobby. They walked hesitantly to the doorframe, looking out after him. Bobby turned after a minute and looked out the window. Amanda followed him, watching as the shrubbery moved strangely.

There was a muffled cry behind him. They both whipped around to see Logan pinning the arms of a soldier behind his back.

"You picked the wrong house bub," Logan snarled.

A shrill, high-pitched cry shattered the air. Amanda dropped to her feet, fighting the urge to use her hands to cover her ears. If she did that she would drop her daughter. Blue began to cry and Amanda covered them both with her arms, wrapping them in a cocoon. The noise was still there though, and over it a spray of bullets cut into the kitchen table. Amanda's heart rate increased and she began breathing heavily.

It was a minute before she could safely look up again, her ears still throbbing from the abruptly silenced noise. The soldier slammed Logan into the table, cutting his face with a knife. Amanda watched as the cut healed up and metal claws sprang out of Logan's skin. He pushed the soldier into the table and plunged the claws into him, yelling.

Amanda watched the soldier slide down the table, trembling and holding onto Blue tightly. Bobby stared in wonder as Logan turned around.

"You guys alright?" he panted.

Bobby gave a fierce and shaken nod. There were noises from the hallway now. Logan waved a hand for them to follow him and neither of them thought twice. As Amanda walked past the soldier she noticed something on his armband. The letters burned into her mind as she left the room; MRD. Mutant Response Division.

Only one thought burned through her head after that;

_You're not taking Cerise from me too._

* * *

><p>Scott let a laser loose from his visor. It sent three soldiers catapulting into the wall. Ororo hurried behind him, punching any soldier she saw and directing the students to the assembly point in the ballroom. Jean was there, ready to defend the students if need be. They had trained for this, although in the exercises the alarm had always woken them up. This time it was due to Terry, and she would be sure to find a way to thank the girl later.<p>

The psionic shield that the Professor always planned to implement was still being put together. He was in Cerebro at the moment, amplifying his powers and building it so it could survive on its own. It wouldn't last forever, but it would keep them safe. At the same time the Professor was psychically assessing the situation.

Ororo could hear him in the back of his head, giving directions and keeping her connected to Hank. Hank had gone around back and was pummeling any soldier unlucky enough to be coming from the rear. Scott and her were clearing out the lobby and, once they were done, would move onto the lawn.

From the other end of the hall there was a muffled scream. She turned to see Logan withdraw his claws from a soldier. Behind him Bobby sent a wave of ice at a soldier who got too close. Amanda stood next to them, clutching her baby daughter tightly. Ororo could hear the Professor in her mind, seeing the two of them.

_Logan! Storm and Cyclops have the lobby! You can join Hank in the back when you deliver Amanda, Cerise, and Bobby to the ballroom. _

Through the mental link Ororo could feel Logan's reluctance, followed by the Professor's frustration.

_Piotr got the children from the second floor, including Rogue. We're just clearing them out now. Now get the three of them to the ballroom immediately! This is __**not **__a request!_

Logan winced and held his head. He looked at Ororo who nodded fiercely. With a growl of frustration he shouted something she couldn't hear. Gesturing to Amanda and Bobby they took off down a side hall.

_Storm, they're bringing in helicopters. _

"I'm on it," she said.

Ororo moved past Scott, who nodded at her before sending more beams towards the soldiers. She took out three soldiers as she moved across and flung open the doors. Three helicopters were coming in, unloading countless soldiers. Some of them charged at her, their weapons drawn and ready to fire.

She let her eyes be consumed by the white film she saw whenever she used her powers. They shot at her but she summoned up a gust of wind to blow their darts away. By increasing the strength of the wind the men were knocked off their feet. Slowly she stepped out, letting the wind increase around her to the strength of a tornado.

It blew around her, a manifestation of her rage. The school had been her home ever since she was a little girl. The Professor had rescued her from the clutches of a ring of pickpockets on the streets of Morocco. At the school she had discovered warmth, the chance for a life that didn't include running.

Now they had come to her home, come to destroy and take. Her rage increased, as did the wind. She watched dispassionately as the helicopter crashed and its occupants were blown away. Ororo stepped further out, seeing more helicopters on the distant horizon. It made her happy. She wanted to hurt them for doing this, wanted to tear them apart-

_Storm, calm yourself. I'm ready to release the shield. _

Not for the first time she wanted to ignore the Professor's warnings. She bit her lip, struggling to keep in her anger. She restricted the winds to a radius around the school, a warning to the helicopters if they wanted to land. Ororo stared at the helicopters for a few minutes, almost wanting them to come.

In the end they didn't. She watched as they flew away. Storm calmed the winds and watched as a glimmer filled the air. A few soldiers from outside the perimeter raced forward, immediately being struck by a crippling migraine. They fell to their feet, crawling and pushing themselves away. She had to smile to herself. Even weapons would disintegrate under the incredible pressure of the shield.

Now all they had to do was round up the soldiers that were still alive inside the mansion. The bodies would have to be disposed of; probably turned into the local law enforcement. The others they would tie up and put in the basement. They would figure out what to do with them later, after they'd had a good long while to ponder the consequences of a failed invasion of a school for mutants.

She looked at the soldiers outside shield, waiting for them to run off. However, they didn't go away. She watched as they sat down outside of the perimeter, starting to take up positions and fortify it. The helicopters they had warned away landed outside of the shield's reach. Worry built up in her, knowing that they believed this was just a temporary setback. She sincerely hoped that they were wrong.


	42. Chapter 42

Mystique changed her appearance by the time Kurt came downstairs. It was what she called her 'older Raven' disguise. If she had grown up still hiding her form it was probably what she would have tailored it to look like. It was just a pretty blonde woman, who depending on her clothes, could be sexy or demure.

She disliked using it as a rule, and disliked the looks she got from Erik when she put it on even more. Mystique hated having to hide, but she knew it was her only choice. Azazel was probably happy that she'd done it; this way he didn't have to explain to Kurt the mutant woman who looked incredibly like him.

She couldn't let him know she was his mother, not yet anyway. Erik's words were still fresh in their memory. Besides, what little Azazel had told her about Kurt's condition left her with the knowledge that he was in no shape to meet the mother who had left him. It sounded like he was barely holding himself together as it was.

He looked around him with a certain level of confusion when he came down. Mystique drank in his appearance. As a baby he had promised to personify everything to her that was beautiful about mutants. As an adult he had lived up to that promise. His pointed ears had sharpened out, and fangs had grown in. He seemed to have control of his tail and his eyes had turned a darker gold. They looked even more like hers now.

Kurt had looked from between her and Erik. He settled on Erik and, when he spoke, his words were tentative and confused.

"I know you," he said, "Erik Lensherr."

"Correct," said Erik, "I go by Magneto most of the time, but I'm also your godfather. You have a bit of leeway."

She could see Kurt's discomfort. Azazel put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Common goal malchick moy," said Azazel, "Stryker torture Magneto in cell. Now we find, we stop."

"By stop you mean kill, ja?" asked Kurt tiredly.

Erik raised his eyebrows and Azazel shrugged.

"He was in prison before," he said, "for murder of some general. Obvious he did it. But was let loose. What does this tell you? If goes to prison, will escape, will torture more. It is what needs to be done."

Kurt simply sighed and tried to take a step forward. He stumbled and Azazel caught him. Azazel made a tsking noise with his tongue.

"Drugs nyet quite wear off," said Azazel, "We go to van slowly now. No teleporting just yet, da?"

He nodded and the two of them got into the back of the van with the tinted glass was. Mystique got up front in the driver's position with Erik behind her. Westchester was a few hours away and they would need to move fast. Unlike the X-men the Brotherhood had never been able to have transportation customized especially for their use. Charles had stolen all of the good mechanics.

From the front she could pick up their conversation. The divider between the back and the front wasn't thick enough. Erik seemed not to be hearing what they were saying, although she knew he was probably cataloging it all. They were speaking in German. Kurt spoke it fluently unlike his halting and accented English. Azazel's words were still speckled with Russian phrases and strange pauses.

Their use of another language irritated her. At first Mystique thought that Azazel was doing it for secrecy, but quickly realized how stupid that thought was. He knew they could speak German. He'd taken the language classes just like the rest of them had. He could only be doing it because he thought his son would prefer it.

It was a far cry from what he'd been like when he'd left the Brotherhood.

"Papa, where are we going?" asked Kurt.

"Westchester. Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. Place in New York."

"I know Xavier," Kurt replied, "He wrote a few papers that…that Amanda sent me on mutation."

His words were rushed when he spoke the woman's name. It was like he was trying to keep in some deep pain.

"I didn't understand a lot of what he was saying, but it was interesting."

Mystique put two and two together. Amanda. Now she had a name to match to the faceless woman Kurt was married to. Mystique bit the inside of her lip, trying not to say anything. She knew so little of the young man in the back seat. The only thing that they shared was their genetic code. Erik probably had been right; she didn't have any real connection with him anymore.

Azazel hesitated before continuing the conversation.

"This Xavier…Kurt…he is your uncle."

There was a very long pause.

"You told me we didn't have any family," Kurt said, "Nothing except my mother, if she is still alive."

Mystique winced.

"Da, well…it was lie," sighed Azazel, "Nyet other way to say it. He is your uncle, related through your mother."

Kurt gave a bitter laugh.

"Well, it's not like he'd want me to be his nephew. His sister didn't want me to be her son, why should **he** want anything to do with me?"

Next to her Erik turned his head. Mystique blinked back the tears that threatened and she gripped the steering wheel. She had to keep her eyes on the road, keep moving. It was the only way she was going to get through this. Her determination didn't stop her from hearing more of the conversation in the back though.

"Brother is nyet like sister," Azazel said, "She left him too Kurt. You were baby when she left. He was grown and lying on beach with spine injury. I should have known then, but she left many people."

Azazel knew she was listening. There was no way he would bring it up if he thought she wasn't. It made her want to hurt him.

"I am nyet big fan of Xavier," said Azazle, "But he is good man. Good man nyet what is needed to shepherd mutants, but still good man. Trust and respect even if do nyet like him. It is possible to do this."

There was a silence as Azazel waited for Kurt's response.

"Kurt?"

Kurt didn't say anything.

"Kurt!" Azazel said louder.

"Sorry," said Kurt, sounding dazed and shocked, "I…I…vhat vere ve talking about?"

"Xavier," said Azazel, sounding pained, "He is man I trust and respect but do nyet think has right idea about mutant cause."

"Oh. Vhy are we going there?" asked Kurt.

"We believe Stryker will, or has, attacked it," said Azazel, "Hope nyet. Hope nyet very much."

Kurt shifted.

"What aren't you telling me?"

There was another pause and Azazel let out a deep sigh.

"Syn, you have to understand. He had medical equipment," he said, "He had much knowledge. I say it was safe place-"

"What aren't you telling me?" asked Kurt sharply.

Azazel sighed again.

"I…Kurt, I entrusted nevetska to his care," he said, his voice tense, "She is there with your daughter."

Mystique and Erik shot each other looks. Erik's was of frustration mixed with surprised. She knew that her own face was just horrified. How could he not mention this, even when he heard that it was about to be attacked? Mystique's foot pressed down on the gas pedal even stronger, not caring if the police stopped them for anything. She could just kill them and get on with things.

"This is place about to be attacked?" demanded Kurt, his voice raising an octave, "This is the place where they are?"

"Da. I did nyet think it would happen," Azazel said, "But Xavier will protect her. To him family is everything, and he does not have much. He has own team of mutant fighters. Nevetska and Cerise will be fine."

A second name. Mystique stomped down on the gas pedal. Her son, Kurt. Her daughter-in-law Amanda. And now her granddaughter, Cerise. That is, if any of them were hers at all. 

* * *

><p>Amanda sat in the ballroom, tying off a bandage around a young woman's ankle. Her name, as far as she could tell, was Kitty. The girl had been phasing through the walls, running from soldiers, and twisted her ankle. She'd been about to recieve tranquilizers when Piotr had crashed into the soldiers along with a few other students who had mobilized.<p>

After dealing with the soldiers Piotr had carried her back to the ballroom like he'd carried the girl named Terry. Terry was still out, laying on one of the couches, but otherwise unharmed. Amanda finished bandaging Kitty. She was glad that her area of expertise was still of some use.

"It's not too badly sprained," she said, "Try not to do too much on it, okay?"

Kitty nodded. Amanda looked over to some of her other patients. One had broken his leg and she'd had to make a splint from the medical supplies Jean had given her. She'd seemed content to hand the reigns over to Amanda once she realized she knew what she was doing. Jean was needed to guard the entrance after all.

Other students had less obvious wounds. Artie had had a bad reaction to the tranquilizers. He was coming around but she'd given him several fever reducers. At one point she'd had to give him a shot of adrenaline. She'd been worried; it had been beyond her area. Still, he was recovering nicely and she was relieved.

Another one was Rogue's roommate, Jubilee. Two soldiers had cornered her. She'd panicked and used her powers on them, losing control in the process. To Amanda's knowledge she'd barbecued the two of them. In the process she'd also badly burnt her hands. Amanda had used a salve on the hands but Jubilee was understandably going through shock.

She sat a few feet away from her, a blanket wrapped around her and rocking herself slowly. Whenever anyone had said anything she'd just shook her head. Jean was talking to her, whispering things in a low voice. The threat must be over if she would abandon her post. It allowed a bone-set tiredness to return to Amanda.

Feeling exhausted she reached up to the couch next to her where Blue was. A blanket had been wrapped around her and she cradled her in her arms. Despite the chaos she'd been through Blue was asleep again. Amanda held her close, her head bowed so a curtain of her golden hair surrounded them. It had gone quiet outside but she wasn't ruling out the possibility that they might still be attacked.

If it happened she was ready to fight. Amanda didn't know how, or what with. Those men had guns, and not just tranquilizer ones. All she knew was that there was no way that she was about to lose Blue the same way she'd lost Kurt. She'd die before she let history repeat itself with her daughter.

"Amanda?"

She looked up and saw Rogue sitting next to her.

"Hey," Amanda said softly.

Rogue gave her a weak smile.

"The teachers have cleared the halls," she said, "They say that it's safe for us to go out again."

"Are they still out there?" asked Amanda, her eyes turning back to Blue.

"Ah heard that they're outside some sort o' perimeter the Professor put up," Rogue said.

"Then we're not safe," Amanda said bluntly, holding Blue to her, "Why are they here?"

Rogue hesitated before sitting down next to her.

"Ah heard they were tryin' to take some o' the students away," she said.

"It's what they do," Amanda said bitterly.

She felt Rogue tense next to her.

"Are they…did 'ya recognize them?"

"It's hard to forget about the people who dragged your husband out and held a gun to your head," Amanda said.

Rogue took in a sharp breath.

"Does the Professor know?"

Amanda shook her head. When she looked up she could see the fear on Rogue's face. Amanda felt bad for what she'd said. She hadn't meant to scare her friend. The words were just the ones that were on her lips, words coupled with darker ones about the people who hounded her family. Sometimes she forgot that the two of them were teenagers, that Rogue was still younger than her in a way. She swallowed and tried to calm down.

"I'm going to tell him," said Amanda.

She gave what she hoped was a reassuring smile to Rogue.

"I'm sure they'll have it in hand soon. Even caught unawares these people know what they're doing," she said, "Where I was with Kurt was isolated. Few people knew we were there. But, well, you saw what happened when they tried to come in here. I know you didn't see Logan in action but I did. Yeesh, I was almost afraid for those guys."

She'd felt no such thing, but her words were comforting to Rogue. From across the room she saw Charles wheel himself in. Rogue saw it too and quickly excused herself to go back upstairs. Charles stopped a foot or so away from her. His hands were folded in his lap and he looked exhausted.

"Are you and Blue alright?" he asked, "I heard you were in the kitchen when it happened."

"We're fine," Amanda said, "Logan took care of that."

"Eventually," said Charles drily, "But I'm glad. We're going to try and reason with them tomorrow morning."

"I don't think you can," said Amanda, "I don't think they're going to listen."

Charles frowned.

"What makes you say that?"

"Because they're the ones that took Kurt," Amanda said, tears welling up in her eyes and threatening to spill over, "Logic and humanity don't seem to apply to them."

Charles reached over and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. She looked up, still trying to force back tears.

"Amanda, I don't want to get your hopes up," he said, "But I have reason to believe that Azazel is very close to finding Kurt, if he hasn't already."

Her heart leapt and she swallowed.

"It's hard not to get my hopes up after hearing that," she replied.

He gave her a tired smile before gesturing to the door.

"Come now Amanda, get some rest."

She nodded and got up. Amanda ascended the stairs slowly. It seemed like it was almost an insurmountable task. Finally she entered the nursery and put Blue in her cradle. She laid down on the cot that had been made up in there for the purpose of watching her daughter, but it was a long time before she could get to sleep again.


	43. Chapter 43

_September 22, 1985_

Scott didn't like the fact that the Professor had chosen him and Logan to be the emissaries. He understood why he should go; as leader of the X-men he had a duty to do these things. As much as he would have preferred to launch a raid the diplomatic approach had to be at least attempted first. He knew that the Professor didn't have high hopes, but they had to give them the chance to leave before all hell broke loose.

Logan was an anomaly. He practically coined the phrase 'doesn't play well with others'. He wasn't even part of the team, not really. The only reason Scott could come up with for the Professor using him was that Logan had personally turned a large chunk of the soldiers into confetti. The intimidation factor was the only logical explanation.

He knew he had to keep his thoughts muted though. The Professor was a presence in their minds, trying to help and act as damage control. He wasn't trying to hear their thoughts, but Scott knew from experience that it was hard not to when people were projecting too much. He'd been around Jean long enough to know the consequences.

As they left the school and started walking towards the encampment the soldiers had set up Scott muttered;

"I do the talking. And don't try to cross the Professor's perimeter, okay?"

"Wouldn't dream of it one-eye," snorted Logan.

Scott shook his head again. He walked up to a point just before the shield ended. The soldiers got up and took notice. One of them fired a few rounds of gunfire. Scott sighed as the pressure of the psionic energy made the bullets crumble before touching them. People could be incredibly dense sometimes.

"We're not here to fight. We're here to talk to your commanding officer," Scott called, "We just want to talk."

"Piss off freak," one of the soldiers snarled.

Scott sighed again and looked at Logan. He could tell that the other man was itching to cut up the men in front of them. For once Scott sympathized. He was itching to turn the safety off his goggles, even if it was only for a few seconds. It would certainly wipe the grins off their intolerant faces.

"I'd appreciate it if you watched your mouth. We need some sense of decorum."

A heavy-set older man walked up. The smirk on his face set off instant warning bells. He'd faced Magneto and other factions several times, but there was something about this man that made his skin crawl. Scott was in the presence of someone to whom this wasn't just a game; it was one they enjoyed playing very much.

The man tilted his head, his smirk widening.

"My my. I heard that Xavier was taking in animals, I just didn't know he was taking in ones as…**unique **as you," he said, looking at Logan, "How long has it been Logan? Ten, fifteen years?"

Logan stiffened instantly. Scott let his eyes slide from one man to another, trying to assess the situation.

"The years have been good to you," he said, "Me, not so much."

"You know who I am?" demanded Logan.

The man's smirk grew even wider and an almost crazed look came across his face. Scott knew that he had to step in before there was an incident.

"We're here to ask why you attacked our school last night," said Scott, "Whatever you have to say to Logan can wait until later."

Logan turned to look at him, his face plainly showing that it couldn't.

_Logan, now is not the time. _

Scott felt grateful for the Professor stepping in. He doubted too many people could make Logan see reason, least of all Scott.

_I need to know- _snarled Logan.

_And you will. I can promise you that. But this man just attacked the school, attempted to tranquilize and kidnap the students. Many of them are very frightened. Rogue still hasn't left her room. _

Logan quieted. If there was one thing that he cared about, it was Rogue. The Professor knew it too. Scott didn't know why the two of them had cobbled together into their small family, but at the moment he didn't care. If Rogue was all that Logan needed to remember why he was angry at the man in front of him then Logan wasn't too far gone.

The man raised his eyebrows at the pause and tilted his head towards Scott. There was a calculating look, one that he didn't like.

"You know, you seem somewhat familiar too," he said, "And my men say you emitted red energy at them last night. It sounds mighty familiar."

"I would have remembered meeting someone like you," Scott said stiffly.

The man crossed his arms and looked him up and down. Scott realized that he was taking in the uniforms.

"You've come a long way from blue and yellow," he said.

Memory took over. Scott made a face.

"You're alive," he said, "After everything you're still alive Stryker."

Next to him he felt Logan shift, but Scott was dealing with too much mounting fear and anger to notice.

"Ah, so we have met."

"Not exactly. We've fought, never face to face," said Scott, "For that I believe that you're thinking of my brother, Alex. I thought your nose looked a little crooked from when he broke it. You walk a little awkwardly; got a limp there?"

Logan raised his eyebrows but Scott plowed on.

"What did you think coming here would do?" asked Scott, "Finish things up? You know what happened last time you came up against us."

"I remember my facilities and private residence being burnt," Stryker said.

_Scott, calm yourself. I know what his presence means to you-_

For once Scott ignored the Professor.

"Pity that didn't do the job," Scott said, "You're lucky you got off so light. We're stronger than last time and you're fighting us on our own territory, not the other way around. You're not going to win so pack up your men and go back."

"That's not going to happen," said Stryker, "You have something I want in that school."

"You're not touching the students," Scott said firmly, "You've caused enough trouble last night and you know an assault won't work."

Stryker's lips thinned and he glared directly at Scott. His skin began crawling again but he pushed the feeling down. He could deal with it later.

"I highly doubt that," he said, "How long do you think you can last in there, cut off from the rest of the world? How much food do you have? We've cut the water and the phone lines hours ago. Even satellites. You're in no position to outlast a siege."

"We'll figure something out," said Scott, "We use our heads instead of filling them with racist propaganda."

He turned on his heel and began stalking towards the manor, his fists clenched. Logan followed shortly after him. Scott was glad that he did. They needed to represent a unified front. Even if it would never happen again, which Scott suspected was the case, he appreciated Logan following his lead.

"Who was he?" growled Logan.

There was no point in lying. Scott didn't even feel like doing so.

"A Colonel in a special division most people in the government don't even know exists," he said, "When I was fifteen he had me kidnapped from my home and put me with some other mutants for his experiments."

He could still remember running down the halls of his school, terrified and knowing someone was coming after him. He knew it had to do with his eyes, the beams. He had lost his first pair of glasses then, the gift his brother had sent him even after his parents refused to let him go to the school. It had been the start of one very long nightmare.

"Shit," Logan said.

"It's only the beginning. If you can believe it it gets worse," Scott said, his voice bitter, "We were rescued; don't ask me how, it all sort of blurs together after a bit. The X-men were attacking it but at the same time something else was going on. Some sort of mutiny; don't ask me."

He shook his head.

"But there were these two sisters there looking for their brother," he continued, "My brother was dealing with some of the overflow of gaurds and found them. The Professor had already found the brother and in the end they all got taken to the school. One sister and the brother...they went off. But the other sister stayed. Later that year she disappeared. Her name was Lorna."

A headache was threatening. He took a deep breath, determined to go on.

"We went after her of course," he said, "Her and my brother…well, we found her after a few days. She was hurt. Badly. Alex went after Stryker and there was a fight. He lost control of his powers and his powers are like mine. Hank barely managed to pull him out before he burned to death in the resulting fire. We thought he died but apparently not."

For a moment he rested his hand on the doorway.

"I don't know how he knows you," said Scott, "But I wouldn't put too much stock in anything he says."

"Wheels knows I was experimented on," Logan said pointedly, "It might have been Stryker. He might know what I need to."

Scott shook his head and let out a bitter laugh.

"Oh, he probably knows," said Scott, "But Stryker hates mutants. If he tells you anything he'll do it because he thinks it's funny. He's bad. I'd rather face Magneto than him. At least Magneto doesn't believe that a mass genocide of the humans is the perfect solution to all of the world's problems."

Logan stuck his hands in his pockets.

"Not sure if this is important," he said, "But he smelt like blood. Fresh blood. His. And he walked a little weird. Think someone tried to bump 'im off?"

"If that's trueh, then they missed," Scott said.

Just before they reached the downstairs hallway Scott added;

"But I will tell you one thing. If he's in charge of the MRD then I don't have high hopes for the Professor's nephew."

_Then it's a good thing that I happen to know that he escaped. _

They paused and Scott winced. He'd forgotten about the Professor's presence in his mind.

_Did you know it was Stryker? _Scott thought.

_I had suspicions but nothing solid. This complicates matters gravely. Stryker is violent but no fool. He wouldn't stay unless he thought he could win. _

_And what exactly do we plan to do about that? _thought Logan, _The guy's got us surrounded. We can launch raids but I don't think we can take them all out. _

_That's why I'm calling for back-up. I believe the old frequency can still get through to the transmitters that Hank made. _

The psychic connection ended. Scott continued to move on, feeling like the conversation had drained something from him.

"Back-up?" Logan called after him, "Who the hell do the **X-men** go to for back-up?"

Scott stopped and looked over his shoulder.

"More X-men," he shrugged.

* * *

><p><em>Badlands National Park, South Dakota. <em>

"I'm not hedging on it," Alex said, "I just think it's not such a big deal about where the house is. It's reasonably priced."

Lorna wiped her hands on her pants, leaving behind dusty streaks. She shook her green hair at him, as if chiding him for his naivety.

"Of course it matters," she said, "Where do you think Nathan's going to go to school?"

"I know where he's going to go to school, and it's not in South Dakota," he retorted.

"I know," Lorna said, rolling her eyes, "Of course I know he's going to Westchester. But just for the first few years."

"I never know with you," said Alex.

"Yeah, right," she said, "We have to get these samples back soon."

"Of course. Because if left exposed rocks crumble in a mere matter of seconds-"

He was cut off by a beeping noise from his pocket. Frowning he took out an old pager, a black 'X' emblazoned onto it. He exchanged a look with Lorna.

"Looks like the house deal is going to have to wait."

* * *

><p><em>Off the coast of Latveria<em>

"I can't believe you got this so fast. I thought he'd have this locked up so tight even the Fantastic Four couldn't get at it."

Sean shrugged and leaned against the wall of the ship. His side was killing him from where he'd jumped out of a window of Doom's castle. He hadn't been able to get quite the right frequency as he jumped. All it managed to do was soften his fall. It was going to bruise pretty bad. At least nothing had broken.

"Well, he'd be expecting them wouldn't he?" he said, "But I think it's enough evidence for Interpol to present to the United Nations, don't you think?"

His fellow agent nodded and slipped the folder into his jacket.

"Excellent work Agent Cassidy, as usual."

"Any chance of vacation time?" asked Sean, "It's been awhile."

"'fraid not," the other man said, "We've got a situation in Russia. We think the Winter Soldier may have resurfaced."

"Just great," Sean muttered.

A beeping noise came from his inner pocket. Sean frowned and took out a pager with an 'X' on it. His face changed.

"Let SHIELD handle it," he said, "I have to go to New York."

"I just told you-"

"Sorry," said Sean, "You've been outranked on this one."


	44. Chapter 44

"It looks like we may have arrived to the party late," Magneto said.

Kurt took in a sharp breath and peered out the window. The van was well hidden behind several trees and on elevated ground, a good vantage point. However, from where he was he could just make out that soldiers were surrounding a mansion. His heart contracted painfully, his mind still swirling and foggy from the events of the past few days.

"Xavier will nyet be without defenses," Azazel said, his voice low.

Kurt swallowed and nodded. Cautiously he slid back the door of the van. The sunlight made him blink. He'd escaped Stryker during the night and gotten into the van inside the house. The windows had been tinted; the only light he saw was artificial. It had been months since he'd seen unadulterated sunlight.

It disoriented him for a moment, causing him to stumble. His father was there to support him, a worried look on his face.

"I am fine," he said.

"You do nyet look fine," Azazel answered.

Sighing Kurt allowed him to help him regain his balance. He felt so fragile, wondering bitterly where the strength he'd used while fighting Stryker and his men was. If they were attacked now he would be no use at all, only a liability. If he could access that strength again he would be worth something, but it seemed to have slipped away from him.

The blonde woman got out of the car, followed shortly after by Magneto. The two of them moved confidently, as if they were on familiar territory. Only Azazel and he seemed to be new to the area. Even then Azazel moved with practiced footsteps. Magneto walked behind Kurt and Azazel, peering out from behind their secure position.

The soldiers were ringed around the school in some sort of formation. Their vehicles were still on, although they seemed bored.

"Zey are in plain view," said Kurt, "But zey do not move in. Vhy ist zis?"

"I told you," said Azazel smugly, "Xavier is nyet without defense. Nyet stupid. Some sort of barrier."

"Whatever he has it appears that they're going to wait him out," said Magneto drily, "I doubt that they have more than a week of supplies in there."

"If that," the blonde woman said, her voice irritable, "it's near the end of the month. Charles is methodical, he does things in shifts and cycles. This is just about the worst time they could have done this."

"My nevetska and granddaughter are in there; I can think of worse times," said Azazel.

The blonde woman clenched her teeth but said nothing. Kurt was suddenly filled with the information that these three had known each other for a long time. They probably had a good idea of what the other was thinking and a chain of command. Each one had fought in several battles, combat-hardened veterans. While he saw a crowd of soldiers they must see specific formations and weak points.

Kurt had only his father's stories about war and battles to rely on. They had never been particularly detailed. It wasn't something you told a child. Yet, it was a little overwhelming as he saw just how out of his depth he was. Combined with his lack of actual combat experience and strength he wondered if he should be there at all. It wasn't as though he'd been raised for attack; only for defense.

They continued to watch in silence and Magneto leaned back.

"Still," he said, "most of what they're doing contains metal. Stryker probably doesn't think I'd go to Charles' aide."

"Would you, normally?" asked Azazel, his voice somewhat ironic.

Magneto smirked although there was steel in his eyes.

"You wound me Azazel," he said, "You must know that I decided a long time ago that if anyone ever had to kill Charles it would be me. I would at least be merciful about it. It's what friends are."

"Does not sound like friends to me," Kurt said.

Magneto raised an eyebrow.

"Excuse me?" he said.

Kurt blinked, cocking his head.

"Vhat?" he said.

He continued to blink as Magneto took him in.

"Have you forgotten what you say again?" asked Azazel, sounding worried.

"Vhat?" Kurt repeated.

"What were just talking about?" Azazel asked.

"Stryker und metal," replied Kurt, feeling confused.

Azazel closed his eyes for a minute. Magneto shook his head.

"You're young; you don't understand things like this," he said dismissively, "And try to calm down; those drugs seem be making you into something of an idiot."

He turned away from them and Kurt clenched his fist. Azazel put a restraining hand on his shoulder, leaning in.

"If anyone else say that, he would have killed, drugs or nyet. Trust me; I know this," Azazel hissed so only Kurt could hear, "He is your godfather, da, and man I respect, but remember dangerous."

"I haf not forgotten," Kurt said, "But vhat did I say?"

"Nyet something he wants to acknowledge," said Azazel, "Now come, we must make plan."

He turned to Magneto for instructions. Kurt bit his lip, trying to regain his mind. He needed to keep a strong grip on the proceedings.

"The first thing, of course," said Magneto, "is to find out just how far around the school perimeter goes."

"Stryker's or Xavier's?" Azazel asked.

"Both," said Magneto, "I assume the phone lines have been cut or we'd have some very angry parents around here."

"The ones that are mutants anyway," the woman said.

"Both probably. Mutant ones would just be better fighters," Azazel said, "Nyet that you would understand."

The woman shot him a ferocious look. Azazel's face remained neutral and Kurt had to wonder what exactly was going on.

"Quiet, both of you," Magneto snapped, "Now, get armed and ready. We should be going in soon."

"I'm fine like I am," the woman said.

"One moment," Azazel said.

He teleported inside the van. A minute later he returned, carrying a bundle wrapped in cloth. He unrolled it and Kurt saw a sight that had been familiar since childhood. Swords and knives of all varieties were stacked neatly inside the roll. They had all been polished and made ready for use. Azazel had always said that a weapon that wasn't ready was worse than having no weapon at all.

Inside Kurt saw the hunting knives that he had stolen from the soldiers, but Azazel brushed past them. Kurt was glad. He didn't want to have to use them again, to have anything that reminded him of that terrible time in the labs.

Instead Azazel picked up a sword with an ornate handle and held it out to Kurt.

"I bring yours," he said, sounding smug.

Hesitating for a moment Kurt took it, feeling its weight in his hands. The sword should have felt familiar and comforting. He'd used it ever since he turned sixteen. Azazel had altered the handle for his grip after he'd shown his proficiency with the ones that didn't accommodate him. Once it was finished he had given him full responsibility of the weapon; sharpening it for use and practice.

Instead it felt foreign, clunky and unwieldy. It was like someone had dropped a baseball bat in his hand. The frustration and confusion must have shown in his eyes because Azazel's face fell. Mercifully he said nothing, simply taking up his own swords and returning it to the van. When he came back he looked troubled.

"Now, this is just a scouting mission," Magneto said, "If we run into any soldiers we take them out quickly and qui-"

There was a small noise off to the left. The blonde woman jerked her head up and plunged into the bushes. Kurt heard the sounds of a struggle and a man was thrown into the clearing. He looked about the same age as the woman, a shock of red hair falling across his face. He looked at Magneto before his eyes narrowed.

The woman came out swinging at him, her foot catching him in the chin. When her foot came around a second time he caught it and threw her towards Azazel. Azazel teleported away at the last minute. Seeing that she was about to be thrown into a tree Kurt hurried and teleported to where she was falling. He grabbed her arm and teleported slightly away, giving them a softer fall once he was done.

She looked at him once they landed and Kurt thought he saw her eyes glow gold. Then she was on her feet again. Azazel was moving towards the red-haired man as Kurt got to his feet. The man closed his eyes and dropped to the ground seconds before Azazel appeared. From the way he stood Kurt could tell that he would have killed him if he'd been a second later.

"Enough."

Azazel frowned. The man got to his feet, brushing the dirt off his clothes and glaring.

"Figures you'd be here," he said.

"And yet you act as though you're surprised to see me Sean," said Magneto.

"Don't know. I keep hoping people will change," Sean said, "Doesn't look like it from where I'm standing though."

Sean crossed his arms and looked over at Azazel.

"Didn't you die or something?" he asked, sounding exasperated.

"You and X-men wish," Azazel said.

Sean rolled his eyes and let his gaze fall on Kurt. His eyebrows rose.

"You two are related, right?" he said, pointing between Azazel and Kurt

"My syn," Azazel snapped out before Sean could answer.

There was a pause as though Sean were digesting the information.

"Huh," Sean said.

Magneto shook his head.

"We are getting off-topic. Once again it appears we have a common enemy," Magneto said, "I wish to kill William Stryker, you wish to free your school. These goals go hand in hand."

He saw Sean hesitate.

"You know after Apocalypse that you can trust me in these sorts of things," Magneto said, "You couldn't have forgotten."

"You think anyone ever forgets anything like that?" replied Sean, "Doesn't mean we trust you, you and your people."

His eyes flickered around.

"But with the wolves at the door I don't really have much choice right now, do I?"

"No, you don't," Magneto agreed, "Now, were you looking for us or was it just a happy coincidence?"

Sean rolled his eyes again and began to walk forward. Moving past Kurt he stood behind the cover and looked down on the soldiers. The surreality of the situation was bearing down on Kurt again. He felt his head start to swim and he had to force himself to concentrate. It would do no good to lose himself again.

"I was doing quick re-con when I ran into you," he said, "They have this place holed up pretty tight. I'm glad I took one of the back roads."

"And how did you know this was happening?" asked Magneto, "I was under the impression that all the phone lines were cut."

Digging into his pocket Sean held out what looked like a pager with an 'X' on it.

"This isn't a phone. Doesn't give details, but it means there's been an emergency at the school and we have to come immediately," said Sean, "The others have one too, but they got here first. Called me and left pretty soon after."

"Zey left?" Kurt said, both shocked and disgusted.

Sean gave him a cursory glance.

"They had all the information they needed," he said, "Trust me when I say they'll be back. Someone needs to stay on the outside though, try to find a way to contact the inside."

He shook his head.

"I still don't know what they're doing out there though," he said, "They've been getting shipments to put something together. With Stryker that means something bad's about to happen."

"But you do nyet know what it is?" asked Azazel, "Nyet even hint? Must nyet have gotten good look at all."

Azazel sounded like he was going to burst into laughter.

"No," Sean snapped, "It's not been a good day. I was nearly caught about five times as it was. Until now I thought I was the only person they had on the outside, which I'm relieved isn't true even if it's just the likes of you here. And don't you dare say I'm not trying hard enough. You don't have a daughter in that school with soldiers ready to shoot at her!"

His tone was venomous. Something in his words grounded Kurt. The disorientation that had hung around him like a cloud dissipitated and he began to see clearly for the first time in days. The weight of the sword in his hand felt familiar again.

"Ja," Kurt said, "I do."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth Sean turned and stared at him. It didn't matter though. He had said it. He slowly realized that until now he hadn't quite believed that Amanda and Blue were still alive and inside the school. Now the words were imprinted on his brain and carved in his heart. There would always be that part of him that doubted, that wouldn't believe until he saw them.

Now though, now that part was in the minority. The part of him that believed and knew he had to fight had come rushing back. He looked at the soldiers in the distance. His grip solidified on his sword. He was ready.


	45. Chapter 45

_**A/N: **More problems with the stie's log-in services. Yeesh, second time this week._

* * *

><p>There are tunnels that lead out of the school, but I would have to lower the shield," Charles said, shaking his head, "I don't see a way for the students to safely get out."<p>

"Can you just lower it in certain places?" asked Jean.

Charles shook his head tiredly.

"I'm afraid not," Charles said, "It acts as one piece. Even if we took it down for a few minutes the soldiers would notice soon. Stryker's having them fire at it to test for weaknesses. We can't keep the level that it's operating at up for too much longer."

"Doesn't sound like we have many options," Hank said.

"Good job stating the obvious fur ball," said Logan.

Hank gave a low growl.

"It looks like they're getting shipments in," said Scott, shooting a look at both Logan and Hank, "They're putting something together out there. I'm sure I speak for everyone when I say I don't want the students to be here when they finish. We can lower the shield for a few seconds, let out a few students at a time. Once they're in the woods we can take them away in groups to one of our safe houses."

"Sounds risky," Ororo said, "They may get trapped in it when the shield goes up again."

"Then the kids are gonna have some huge migraines," said Logan, "Much as I hate to agree with boy scout over here it seems like it's our best shot if we want to get them out. Besides, anyone got any better ideas?"

There was a long silence.

"Some of the kids are injured," Jean said, "They're going to need a partner to get through. Some of them are even going to need to be carried, which I think means that some of the stronger students are going to have to go in and out more than once."

"This is getting even riskier," said Ororo.

"I agree, but it's still our best shot. Jean has a point," Charles said, "We'll organize the students into groups before they go out. I want no more than two injured students per group. I trust the older ones know the location of the safe house. We can equip some of the older students with earpieces so they can communicate back and forth. It's not too far away and the tunnels should take them well out of range of the soldiers."

"And if the soldiers catch on?" asked Logan.

"Then we'll be ready," Charles said, "You're going to be the first one out. Make sure that no group leaves until it's together and send a runner if the soldiers discover the entrance. Jean will make sure that the students leave in organized waves. "

He ignored the frown on Logan's face as he turned to the remaining X-men.

"The rest of you are going to be part of a diversion," he said, "Hopefully it will buy some time. Do any of you have any suggestions?"

Logan remained frowning but said nothing. Hank coughed.

"There's still something we're not addressing," he said.

"What is that?" Charles asked.

Hank hesitated before sighing.

"We need to do something about Blue," he said, "She's very young and could cry and attract soldiers. I don't approve of drugging babies but…"

His voice trailed off suggestively. Charles rubbed his temples, feeling his years press almost unbearably on him.

"Of course," he said, "But check with Amanda first. I doubt she'll object when she hears it's so her and her child will have a better chance at living. Still, we should at least inform her."

Hank nodded.

"Alright," said Charles, "We're going to have to move quickly, use the night as cover."

* * *

><p>Amanda looked around the nursery, feeling a wave of emotions threaten to overwhelm her. For so many months she had thought that she was safe at the school. It had been the birthplace of her daughter, a sanctuary for the unusual family. Now it was just possible to see the ring of soldiers around the school from her window in the night gloom.<p>

Unlike most of the students she had no illusions about them. They would not show mercy to anyone in the school because they were children. They hadn't even shown consideration to a pregnant woman. They weren't just there to imprison them; they were there to hurt them. They weren't officials; they were kidnappers.

She picked up the messenger bag that she had brought into the school and began packing. Unlike last time she filled it with supplies for her daughter. Babies needed a multitude of things, much more than the average person. It was because they were so fragile, so small, their whole existence dependent on the ones taking care of them.

Feeling the strain keenly she finished packing and slung the messenger bag over her back. As though from far away she heard a soft coo and looked into the cradle. Amanda had dressed Blue warmly for the New York fall outside. She was bundled up tightly, her face peeking out beneath a knitted cap.

Beyond that she was a small child with small limbs. For a baby she was chubby but a perfectly healthy size. By any other estimation she was tiny and frail. The pearly sheen of her skin showed how soft it was, how easy it would be to cut through it. Her eyes had just started to focus, let alone assess potential threats.

Amanda reached out and gently picked up Blue. The numbness that had allowed her to get through the previous night had faded. The conviction that she had to defend her daughter with her life had not. Under the light of day it seemed even more reasonable and essential. They had taken Kurt from her and she wouldn't let them take Blue. No matter what it took she would never let any harm come to her daughter.

The only thing that had really changed was Amanda's recognition of how young she was. She understood why people waited to get married and have children until they were older. Amanda was a nineteen-year-old doing a job that was normally attributed to someone who was much older.

It was a daunting prospect. Amanda had known what she was getting into, marrying at eighteen. Perhaps she hadn't anticipated what had happened to Kurt, but she had known that she was taking on the responsibilities of an adult. She was making a decision for the rest of her life; committing to one man and tying her future to his. It had been a little scary but she'd needed him, had felt no reason to be without him because of her age.

Amanda hadn't expected to have children so early in her marriage, but she really should have seen it coming. Even when Kurt had still been with her she had been terrified by the prospect of motherhood. They were both very young and it was a great responsibility. She would have been a fool not to be scared by it.

Her mother had once told her that the best things in life were often quite terrifying. Now she was looking at the small bundle in her arms, knowing that this child was that terrifying thing. Blue was also the most precious thing in the world. She was a life, a life that had been created out of love for a future full of love.

The people outside were trying to stop that. Amanda still didn't know where Kurt was. It ached for her not to know, to wonder if she was ever going to know. Her conviction that he was alive was still strong, but that did nothing to assuage her pain. So much in her life seemed like it had been left to chance.

However, she could still decide what she was going to do. No matter what she still had options, paths that could be taken. There was Blue to take care of, to keep safe. She would put her in Kurt's arms one day. She knew that. Until then, even after that, she had a job to do. The job never ended, not really. It just got a little easier. Right now there were more hard decisions. It wasn't just about her anymore. Amanda was a mother.

Silently she rocked Blue and stroked her hair. Though her daughter was awake she was still. The sedative that Hank had given her had begun to take effect. Her daughter stared with her big blue-green eyes, fighting the drug. There was a rebellious streak in her that was appearing very early. Amanda smiled and kissed her forehead tenderly.

"Don't worry," she whispered, "I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

She hoped that, in some form or another, Blue understood. She took it as a good sign when, after her words, Blue stopped struggling and let her eyes close. Amanda kissed her on the forehead again, closing her own eyes briefly. Then she walked downstairs, keeping a firm grip on her daughter.

* * *

><p>Rogue was almost startled by Amanda's serenity when she appeared, daughter in arm. A lot of the other students were scared; many of them were very young. She was scared herself and she saw the apprehension in Bobby's eyes too. Tentatively she reached out her gloved hand and took Bobby's. His eyes looked up at her briefly before squeezing her hand tightly.<p>

Swallowing she looked ahead and saw Jean begin to group the students together.

"Rogue, Bobby," Jean called.

Squeezing his hand even tighter they stepped up. She gestured towards Piotr who nodded grimly at them. An earpiece was on him and his hands were folded across his chest. He wore a determined expression. He'd wanted to be an X-man from the minute he stepped on campus the way Bobby told it. He probably saw this as another opportunity to prove himself.

Rogue saw other students put in different groups. John was shifted to a group with Terry. As he walked he flicked the top off his lighter repeatedly. Anyone else would have thought he was bored but Rogue recognized it as a nervous habit of his. He was keeping it under control though.

Jubilee, who was put in their group, was not. The girl was on the verge of tears. Rogue momentarily abandoned Bobby to try and comfort her. They weren't friends really, but the school was her home in the same way it was Rogue's. Her hands were swathed from where she'd burned herself and her eyes cast nervously around.

Kitty came too, her limp from her sprained ankle pronounced. Despite her pain she hobbled on it. Once to the group she almost fell. Piotr reached out and grabbed her by the arms, steadying her. As soon as she was on both feet she took his hand and gripped it tightly. The two of them had always been close.

Throughout the situation Amanda stood calmly, holding Blue and occasionally shifting her grip on her. She acted as though the situation was merely procedure, something that involved no risks whatsoever. It was soothing that a woman with so much to lose was being so calm about trying to outrun soldiers.

Jean called her name and put her in the group with Rogue and Bobby. Rogue looked over at her and Amanda gave a slight smile.

"How's mah godbaby holdin' up?" asked Rogue.

"Fine. Asleep, but she's always the most peaceful when she's like this," Amanda answered, "She'll be fussy when she wakes up. Hates going to sleep at night."

Rogue managed to smile in return. Jean had finished calling names and she stood in the middle of the ballroom, taking a deep breath.

"Now," she said, "some of the faculty are outside causing a diversion. Remember your group numbers; that's the order you'll be leaving."

For a brief moment Rogue felt panic. What was their number? Her face must have shown her fear because Piotr said;

"We are sem."

She blinked. Amanda shook her head.

"It means seven in Russian," she said gently.

Rogue took a deep breath. Of course she'd known that Piotr had been invited to the school from Russia. Piotr had always been good at hiding his Russian accent though. He must have been more nervous than he looked to let it slip through. As it was Piotr looked over at Amanda, his eyes wide with surprise.

"You speak?" he asked.

"My father-in-law does," Amanda replied, "I picked up the odd word."

"Get in line according to your number!" Jean called.

Jubilee let out a strange noise from the back of her throat. Still gentle Amanda shifted Blue and touched Jubilee's arm.

"We're going to be fine," she said.

The way Amanda said it Rogue could almost believe it.

* * *

><p>Hank pulled himself along the ground inch by inch, his stomach smashed into the turf. Ahead he saw the soldiers talking, oblivious to his presence. He'd learned that at night he could blend in with shadows rather well. At any other time his fur would give him away. Instead night had proved to be his best friend time and again.<p>

They would have to be noticeable in a few minutes, but he had to get there first. Scott would be his back-up as Alex had been many times in the past. He wondered where Alex was along with the others. He had no doubt that they were close by if not there already. They'd know once the fight started. None of them would run from danger. It wasn't in thier nature.

He paused for a minute, only a few feet away from the headlights. He looked at his watch. The shield was down. Hank braced himself before pushing himself into the air. He landed on the hood of one of their jeeps. Before they could start shooting he roared and picked up one of them. He tossed him into another, operating on the same rage of invasion as he had the previous night, as they all must have.

Other soldiers came, alerted by the amount of noise he was making. The first wave were pushed off their feet by a beam of red light. He charged in, barreling over others who hadn't been intercepted by Scott's blast. He roared again and shoved them down. The sky lit up briefly by a lightning strike.

* * *

><p>The ballroom was illuminated from the light, followed quickly by the boom of thunder. Some of they younger children let out whimpers, but the older children knew that the weather was their friend.<p>

"That's the signal!" Jean yelled, "Group one, go!"

Rogue clasped Bobby's hand. This was it.

* * *

><p>Stryker looked up from his computer at the sound of thunder. He saw the mutant that he remembered vaguely as McCoy in the thick of his soldiers, beams of red light blasting his soldiers off his feet. The wind had picked up too and it had begun to snow. Stryker smiled. They were finally making their move were they? Well, he hadn't come unprepared.<p>

He turned to the technician on his left.

"Activate the Sentinels," he ordered.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Apparently the original plan for X-2 was for the X-men to fight the Sentinels at the end. It was cut due to budget constraints. It would have been pretty awesome though.


	46. Chapter 46

"That's Scott," Sean said.

Kurt peered over his cover as another red blast cut through the night.

"You're sure it's not Alex?" asked Magneto.

"Too concentrated," Sean replied shortly.

"They're performing a raid? The X-men?" asked the blonde woman, "Very militaristic for Charles."

"If only it were a raid," said Sean, "It's never just a raid. Nothing's ever that simple."

"Then what is it, pray tell?" asked Magneto.

Sean hesitated. Magneto sighed.

"You can't honestly believe we would ever attack the school," Magneto said.

Sean let out a snort of disbelief.

"I don't know," he said, "I heard the Professor got poisoned through Cerebro last year. The only ones outside of the X-men who know about it are you guys. So, who was it? His 'friend' or his 'sister'?"

Azazel's eyes flickered over to Kurt. He was apprehensive, like he thought that Kurt would figure something out. Well, he wasn't stupid. So his mother was alive. It wasn't important at the moment, but an idea was starting to form in Kurt's mind. He kept it to himself, shoving it quietly to the back of his head. It could wait. Right now it was the people in the school who were important, not the people outside of it.

"So forgive me if I have my doubts," Sean said, ignoring the glares he was getting from all sides, "But they're probably trying to distract from an evacuation of the students. They won't want them around if they're forced to do something drastic."

"Such as?" asked Kurt.

Next to him Sean tensed before relaxing. He never seemed to let his guard down around the others. With Kurt though, it was different. They both had young daughters trapped inside. He'd been sympathetic since finding that out, even making some small talk to him. The others he only talked to if he needed to. When he'd found out that Kurt's wife was there as well he abandoned all forms of hostility.

"I have no clue. We never covered that in the drills," said Sean, "But we need to get out there. They're far outnumbered, which doesn't necessarily mean anything. I think the shield's down for them to be making their way through. At least for a little bit. Once we're in, well, we'll all be more useful."

"And reveal that we're here?" said Magneto, "I think not. There has to be **some **element of surprise."

"And I think Kurt and I want to find out if our kids are alright," snapped Sean.

"You'd give us away."

Sean's eyes narrowed and he got up. The shrubbery still hid him but the motion was abrupt. He thrust out an accusatory finger.

"You lost the right to give me orders when I was sixteen," Sean hissed back, "And don't worry, I can get pretty far without someone noticing me-"

"I can get you furzer," Kurt said.

Both Sean and Magneto looked at him in surprise. He could feel his father tense up.

"Syn," he said, his voice cautious.

"Ve haf zvei teleporters. It ist not logical to haf both of zem stay in same place," Kurt said, keeping his tone reasonable, "I can go vith Sean und you can stay vith Magneto. Our skills vill not be vasted. Ve vill go to X-men und you vill try to find und stop Stryker."

Azazel crinkled his brow.

"You would nyet want to go after Stryker yourself?" asked Azazel.

Kurt shook his head.

"Mien family ist more important."

Azazel looked at him again. To anyone else he would have looked blank, but Kurt recognized when his father looked at him with pride.

"I think you should let him," Azazel said.

Standing Magneto got to his feet. He gave Azazel a hard look.

"Is that a father speaking, trying to help his son win his argument," he said, "or the strategist we valued so much?"

He swallowed and Kurt saw the pain in his eyes.

"Strategist."

"Really," Magneto said mildly.

Azazel looked up, spitting his next words.

"What father would voluntarily let syn onto battlefield?"

Magneto nodded and looked at Kurt. Kurt stared back in determination, feeling as though this were some sort of test.

"Your parents' son indeed," he said, "Go with Cassidy then."

Wasting no time Kurt got up and grabbed Sean by the arm. He teleported them to another covered spot. They were on their own now. 

* * *

><p>Amanda hurried down the tunnels, surrounded on all sides by the students. Piotr had long ago stopped trying to hurry Kitty along and had simply opted to carry her. She rode piggy-back, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. Jubilee had gotten past her tears and was moving with the rest of them.<p>

Further ahead she could see the sixth group continuing on. They were nearly at the end of the tunnel. Behind them was group eight, followed quickly by group nine. There were fifteen groups if she remembered correctly. It was possible that she had made a mistake. She'd been her own world, calm in the knowledge of what she might have to do. When you knew it suddenly wasn't so scary.

She looked down at the focus of her decision. Blue hadn't so much as whimpered as they moved. Hank's drug was working. If everything went well Blue would never even know that she had left the school. Amanda knew she wouldn't remember it when she was older, but she didn't want any of this touching her daughter's memory in any way. It had already affected her life far too much for Amanda's taste.

The sixth group reached Logan. They waited for a moment and then Logan waved them on. They hurried out with her group on their heels. He put a hand out to them. They had obviously timed this closely. Amanda took great comfort in the fact that it all ran like a well-oiled machine.

The whole situation really did seem rehearsed, even though Amanda knew it wasn't. She saw that there was still fear, still panic around them. Most of it was contained in quiet pants and frenzied looks. No one wanted to be the first who spoke of the weakness that would send everyone into hysterics.

Piotr reached Logan first. He stopped, not even panting.

"You know where you're going, right kid?" he asked.

In response Piotr nodded.

"Da, we had a fire drill once like this," he said.

"Good," Logan said, looking out the grate.

Amanda finally caught up to them, followed closely by Jubilee. The girl was biting her thumb, her eyes looking around furtively. She was starting to crumble with so much pressure but Amanda had faith that she would make it. They were far too close to the end to give up. Jubilee knew she couldn't afford to give in to her fear now.

Footsteps splashed after them. Rogue came up behind Amanda, her hand clasped tight with Bobby's. She saw Logan give her a tight nod, looking at the end of the grate that would lead them into the woods. Everyone was still, waiting for the timing to line up again. Next to Amanda Jubilee whimpered at the lack of movement, her unoccupied mind finally showing her fear.

"It's okay," Amanda said quietly, "We're going to be fine."

Jubilee bit her lip. She thought she saw a drop of blood there before Jubilee nodded. Logan looked out the grate. If she concentrated Amanda could see him counting under his breath. After a moment he waved them on.

"Go on!" he said.

Piotr ran out. Amanda hurried after him, hearing her friends behind her. As predicted the night air was cool. She was surprised how she was able to keep up. It appeared that her sickness hadn't impaired her dancer's muscles any. For the millionth time in her life she found reason to thank them.

In the distance she heard explosions, as though someone were trying to remind them of their precarious situation. Jubilee didn't whimper though, her eyes set dead ahead. Amanda said a quick prayer for their safety. She also said one for those who were fighting to protect them and, as was her custom, for her father-in-law and husband, wherever they were. 

* * *

><p>Sean coughed, the sulfur filling his lungs. Kurt winced as he saw the man's disorientation.<p>

"That going to happen the next time you do that?" Sean asked.

"Happens efery time to ozzers," Kurt said.

"Okay," said Sean, "then don't teleport me straight into battle. Off to the side, then you can go into the thick of it. I'll recover and join you. You sure you're up to this?"

"I haf fought Stryker's men before," Kurt said, "Zey are not trained vell und operate under assumption zat you can vin if you just keep shooting."

Sean smirked.

"Sounds like they weren't hired for their brains," he said.

"You speak as zough Stryker is smart," said Kurt.

"You don't think so?" Sean asked.

Kurt shook his head.

"If he vere smart he vould not haf let me live," he said, "Ready to teleport?"

Sean laughed before setting his face into a grim countenance. There wouldn't be any laughter where they were going.

"You bet."

Grabbing his shoulder he teleported him to where he'd been instructed. Giving him a nod he adjusted his grip on his sword. Then he teleported to where a throng of soldiers was converging on a mutant with a visor. The mutant's back was turned to them and Kurt landed behind him, his descent allowing him to kick one soldier to the ground.

The others recoiled in shock and sent bullets towards him. Kurt teleported away and slashed at their backs. He dropped to the ground and cut through their boots to their hamstrings as well; they wouldn't be moving any time soon. Non-lethal but he knew it would probably cripple them for quite some time.

Some screamed as they fell to the ground. The mutant whipped around, his hand at his visor. Kurt got to his feet and for a moment they looked at each other.

"I'm assuming you're here to help?" the mutant said finally.

Kurt nodded as another wave of soldiers came rushing forwards.

"Good," the mutant said.

He touched his visor and a red beam crashed into three men. Kurt teleported behind the remainder, performing the same maneuver he'd done on their companions. His father had taught it to him, like he'd taught him so much. He turned to face another group of soldiers and slashed at them. He teleported as another began shooting. He landed behind him and tossed him to the ground with his tail.

More soldiers were coming. Kurt teleported to them and grabbed thier backs. He teleported into the air, not at a distance that would kill them, but one that would certainly break thier bones. It was another favorite of his father's but he was under the impression he never did it from such a low height.

He teleported again and took out several more soldiers on the ground. Another group came rushing towards him, but they were knocked off their feet by a noise that seemed very loud but didn't quite reach his ears. It made him feel a little sick, and he knew he showed it.

"Yeah, sorry," Sean said, jogging up to him, "warbling my voice does that to people. Better than having your eardrums shattered though."

Looking amused Sean patted the man's shoulder.

"Good to see you Scott," he said.

"You too," said Scott, "Anyone else with you?"

"Busy," Sean said, "But believe me when I say they're coming."

"I do," a large blue mutant said, lumbering up with a woman with white hair, "Alex never could stay away from a fight."

"Nice to see you helping out your constituents Hank," Sean said.

"The patronage system isn't what it used to be," replied Hank.

Hank shook hands with Sean and frowned at Kurt.

"I beg your pardon," Hank said, "but are you Kurt Wagner?"

"Ja. I know zat you are Senator McCoy, I haf seen papers," said Kurt, surprised, "But you know who I am?"

"Yes," Hank said, "Well, I know what your father looks like. And I've seen your daughter. It's guess work from there."

Kurt took a sharp breath.

"You haf seen zem?" he asked, knowing how desperate he sounded, "Are zey alright? Vhere are zey?"

"They're being evacuated right now," Hank said, making a motion with his hand, "They're in an early group. But mother and child were in excellent health when last I saw them."

"Hope they weren't too early on," Sean said, "This raid looks like it was more of a clean sweep. If Stryker had been serious he would have brought in tanks."

"I haf expressed view on intelligence," said Kurt.

Across from him Scott shook his head.

"He's not stupid," he said, "It would be better if he was, but he knew that the Professor was well equipped. I can't say how smart his soldiers were, but he would have had a back-up plan. We know he was bringing something in."

"Yeah, I saw that," Sean said, "But I didn't see anything outside of the crates. Maybe he didn't get around to activating them?"

A monstrous creaking sound, as though hundreds of metal plates were scraping together, filled the air. Kurt clapped his hands over his ears, watching as everyone around him did as well. Light flooded the area from high above them. He looked up and felt his brain revolt in confusion and his heart skipped a beat.

Two bright lights showed down on him from high above. A robotic voice grated against his ears;

"MUTANTS DETECTED."


	47. Chapter 47

"We need to stop for a minute," Bobby panted, "I can't feel my legs."

Piotr stopped, looking nonplussed. He didn't need to catch his breath, didn't even seem like the run had had any effect on him at all. Rogue wondered if part of his mutation was that he didn't sweat. She took a deep breath before letting go of Bobby's hand momentarily. The sweat from their exertions and nervousness was making it hard to keep a good grip even through her gloves. Bobby understood and wiped his hand.

"You are all still with me, right?" asked Piotr.

Amanda shifted her baby and pushed sweaty hair out of her eyes.

"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven," Amanda said, "We're all here."

"Okay," Piotr said, "It is still far, but not too much."

He shifted Kitty on his back.

"Everyone is still fine?" he asked.

"Yeah, we just need a minute," Jubilee said.

She shook her head, clearing it. Rogue could see that Jubilee was almost on par with Piotr for running. Kitty was the one who looked the least exhausted, but she was still on Piotr's back. He didn't seem to mind and Rogue felt that she was probably cuddling up a little more than necessary. It made her want to grin, but now wasn't the time for school gossip.

"Everyone ready?" asked Piotr.

"No," Bobby said, grabbing Rogue's hand, "but we need to get moving."

Piotr nodded and they continued running. The path was well-worn, the footprints of countless other students pressed deeply into the dirt. The night was dark, barely illuminated by the distant explosions. It made the hair on the back of Rogue's neck rise but she kept herself face forward. There really was no looking back.

Suddenly the dim light disappeared under the glare of a harsh searchlight. A tree crashed in front of them and Rogue leapt back, though it was far from her. Piotr stopped, looking upwards. She followed his gaze and saw what looked like a tower stretching into the sky. When it turned its searchlights directly on her she saw two eyes and a mouth.

"Iron giant," Amanda murmured, looking dazed.

Rogue turned to her, wondering if perhaps she knew what it was. She was just about to ask when it intoned;

"MUTANTS DETECTED."

There was a slight rasping sound as Piotr's skin morphed into metal.

"DIRECTIVE: CAPTURE."

A laser erupted from the robot's hand. Piotr dropped Kitty off his back and covered her with his metal body. Under the laser he was pushed to the ground, Kitty phasing at the last moment. Steam rose off his skin and Kitty reached out to make sure he was alright. He jerked away at the last moment.

"Nyet! You will burn self," he said.

He looked back at the robot, which continued to move forwards. Jubilee stepped up, colored sparks flickering around her hands. She aimed them at the same time the robot raised its hand. Her fireworks countered the laser in mid-air, Jubilee panting and glaring up at the giant. More sparks gathered around her hands.

"You want some?" she yelled, "Well come on, let's dance Rosey! Let's dance!"

Rogue wondered when the quiet, somewhat hysterical girl they'd been travelling with had turned into a hellion. Jubilee shot more fireworks at the robot, still screaming. The robot regarded her for a moment before a panel opened in its chest. Rogue watched as metallic tentacles burst out, making a beeline for Jubilee.

Jubilee saw them and tried to dodge, but one grabbed her around her wrist. Piotr ran over and tried to pull her back, but it quickly became apparent he was having trouble overpowering it. Amanda was near too and she shifted her daughter so she could get a grip on Jubilee's arm. The robot turned its head, creaking.

"HUMAN DETECTED."

Amanda looked up, her eyes wide and swallowing hard.

"DIRECTIVE: PROTECT."

The tentacles retracted, gently wrapping around Amanda's waist. She cried out and Rogue rushed forward, only to have Amanda set on the ground some way away. Her feet touched the ground and she seemed disoriented for a moment. The robot's gaze focused on Blue as Amanda stared back at it, her breathing labored and her eyes flickering over it.

"MUTANT DETECTED. DIRECTIVE-"

"We have heard!" Piotr thundered.

Jubilee sent another explosion of fireworks. The tentacles ignored her and continued towards Amanda. She dodged them and wove in between the numerous metal feelers. Rogue had heard she'd been a dancer before, but never seen it in action. Finally one tripped her and she fell, covering her child.

Next to her Jubilee sent more fireworks and the tentacles shifted back towards her. Piotr saw them moving and smashed them before they got to her. Next to her Bobby sent a wave of ice at the robot's face. Ice covered the eyes, leading it to move blindly. More trees crashed down and Rogue finally reached Amanda's side.

"Are 'ya okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine," Amanda replied, her eyes still on the robot.

Rogue looked over at the robot before looking over at Kitty. Because of her twisted ankle she seemed to have problems getting up. An idea came to Rogue's head and she rushed over.

"Kitty, ah'm gonna have to ask for a favor," she said, taking off her glove.

Kitty hesitated. She looked over where Piotr was as the robot attempted to crush him.

"Okay," she said, holding out her hand.

Rogue grabbed it, holding on for a few seconds. She could feel Kitty's power flowing through her, but Kitty's eyes had also rolled to the back of her head. She fell backwards and Rogue let go abruptly, feeling horrified. Rogue put her gloved hand under Kitty's neck. Her pulse was strong, but it still made her nervous.

Behind her Amanda came up. She knelt next to Kitty.

"I'll take care of her," she said, "You go do whatever it is you're planning on."

Rogue gave her a brief nod before running forwards. She phased into the robot's leg and began climbing the intricate series of wires. Whenever she saw something that looked important she phased through. Her phasing was all that seemed to be required to break it. Kitty certainly had an interesting power on her.

Rogue continued climbing until she was sure she was in its head. She was exhausted by this time, panting heavily. From outside the sounds of her friends' combat filtered through. Rogue took a deep breath before slowly phasing again. This time she phased through the entire Sentinel, hitting the ground at the end and feeling shockwaves through her legs.

A creaking noise behind her combined with Bobby grabbing her hand alerted her that they needed to move immediately. She began running, reaching Amanda and Kitty when the Sentinel teetered before falling. Luckily it fell backwards, because otherwise they might have all been rushed.

She took a deep breath and smiled weakly at Kitty, who was coming around.

"Wow," Kitty whispered, "I should try that sometime."

"I hope you do nyet have to," said Piotr, hoisting her onto his back again, "Come on, we must get moving before another comes. I will call main house once we arrive, warn them."

"Means we have to get there pretty fast," said Jubilee.

"Then let us not waste time." 

* * *

><p>The laser blasts kept Kurt teleporting every few seconds. The giants had come out of nowhere, and Kurt counted at least four. He was sure there had been five at one point, but he wasn't sure where the fifth had gone. By the lack of remains it hadn't been taken down, but the situation was surreal enough that he could be imagining things.<p>

The robots weren't like anything he had ever seen or been trained to face. It wasn't just their size, it was their lack of vital points. Everything was plated with indestructible steel and they shot lasers. He wondered bitterly who had provided the money necessary to their construction and resolved to find them after it was over. People like that couldn't be allowed to be left to their own devices.

Down below Scott let out a beam of light at a circle on the giant's chest plate. It cracked the glass slightly, causing the giant to stumble. The white haired woman raised her hand and a lightning bolt came out of the sky. Kurt watched as it struck the chest piece, shattering it. The giant stumbled before stumbling and crashing.

Kurt looked over at another one of the giants. He tossed his sword to his tail, making sure he had a good grip on it. He then teleported onto its chest, glad that he had never been one for shoes. His skin allowed him to cling to the outside of the giant, crawling upwards until he reached the massive chest piece.

It continued to alert the world that it had seen him and what it was supposed to do, a sound that was beginning to irritate him considering the high concentration. Close to the chest piece he saw the words 'SENTINEL MARK I' engraved into it. Now he had a name for his enemy.

He tossed the sword from his tail to his hand. Clinging onto it with the other hand he drove the blade into the chest piece. It cracked the glass only marginally. An iron hand reached for him and he teleported to its shoulder. He teleported back down when it reached for him again, wedging his sword into the chest piece once more. Again the glass cracked but didn't shatter enough to bring the Sentinel down.

The hand returned for him and he teleported to its shoulder. Once there he rested his hand against the Sentinel's head. He paused there as the Sentinel turned and looked at him.

"Guten tag," he said.

Kurt drove his sword into one of its eyes. Sticking his other hand onto the other side of its head he concentrated. There was a slight sense of a shift, the sense that always came when he teleported. Then he stepped away from the disconnected Sentinel's head, panting. In the distance the Sentinel crashed to the ground.

"Now **that's **pretty good."

He turned and gave a tired grin at Sean.

"I vill probably not be able to do it again," he answered, feeling exhausted.

"Well it was brilliant," Sean said.

Sean took a deep breath before screaming at another Sentinel. The metal in its leg began to warble, the hinges coming undone. The leg fell off, causing the Sentinel to collapse. It raised its hand but Hank jumped onto it. His claws ripped it apart before he wrenched the chest piece off. The Sentinel sputtered before falling apart.

In the distance Scott let another beam of light out at the last Sentinel. Kurt heard a metallic clang before a man appeared on the Sentinel's shoulder and sliced off its head. The head fell to the ground, the man jumping off it at the last minute. The man sniffed in disgust as Scott ran up to him.

"You're supposed to be watching the students Logan!" he yelled.

"Found out these sci-fi rejects found the evacuation path," Logan snarled, "So we stopped sendin' 'em. And Chuck thought I'd be more useful shreddin' these things."

Kurt took a deep breath. Sean hurried forward, asking the question on his mind before Kurt could voice it.

"Did it hurt any of the kids?"

Logan cocked his head.

"You got a girl with red hair, makes a sound that could burst your eardrums?" he asked.

"Terry, yes!" Sean said.

"She was group four. They got there before these things," said Logan, "Number seven found them. It would have to be the group with the baby."

Kurt's blood ran cold. He pushed past Sean.

"Are zey fine?" he demanded.

Logan squinted.

"Oh, you're the kid's father," he said, "She looks a lot like you."

"Are zey fine?" Kurt repeated, his voice rising in pitch.

"Yeah, yeah. They got there in one piece. Took the thing down," said Logan, waving one of his clawed hands dismissively.

Kurt let out a deep breath, feeling relieved. Another creaking sound caught his ear and he looked up to see five more Sentinels approaching them. He shifted his grip on his sword. He doubted he had few teleports left in him. The others, with the exception of Logan, looked exhausted as well. They would have to try though.

Just as he got ready to teleport the Sentinels stopped. Their metal plates began to shake before ripping away. The Sentinels were dismantled, piece by piece while the pieces crashed into others, leaving them crumbling. Kurt watched as the giants were reduced to scrap heaps, their pieces thrown carelessly around.

"Stryker decides to start a war on my people and he uses **metal **giants? How droll."

Next to him Sean winced when, as one, the group turned.

"Forgot to mention," said Sean, "He's here."

Kurt tiredly waved to his father as he approached with Magneto and the blonde woman.

"Thought you could use some help," the woman said.

"Not from you," Logan snarled.

"For a man with so much metal in him you certainly do have a habit of trying to antagonize me," Magneto observed, "We saw them approaching from a distance. Humans don't seem to understand that metal isn't that indestructible."

"It isn't," said a voice from his nightmares, "I know that all too well."

Kurt turned slowly to see Stryker surrounded by a score of troops. His exhausted state reared up, along with his knowledge of his allies' weaknesses, but his eyes narrowed.

"It's why I saved my plastic weapons for last," Stryker said.


	48. Chapter 48

The two groups stared at each other. Kurt breathed deeply, looking at his father for instructions. They were surrounded; yes. They were outgunned and exhausted; yes. This wasn't the end though. He had vowed that he wasn't going to let Stryker win. He wouldn't let the man who had done so much evil continue to walk free, to one day use his metal giants to hurt his wife and daughter.

"Colonel Stryker come in! Stryker, do you read me? Over."

There was a paused and Stryker made a face. He took out his radio, his eyes still trained on the group.

"I read you. Who is this?" Stryker asked, "Over."

"This is SHIELD special agent 0009," the voice continued, sounding rather cheerful, "I have orders for you to desist your work with the MRD. I repeat, move away from the school and stop all activities. Over."

Stryker's face contorted. The soldiers around him looked at him uneasily, clearly unsure of what to do. Next to him Sean smirked.

"This is gonna be good," he whispered.

Kurt didn't dare ask him what he meant. Stryker looked furious, yelling into his radio.

"I have clearly apprehended a mutant training facility!" he nearly screamed, "The bureaucrats in Washington will **not **stop me if they care anything about the future of humanity!"

Sean's smirk was widening. Even Magneto had turned to stare at him, looking somewhat perplexed but incredibly curious.

"And I've never heard of a triple zero SHIELD agent!"

"Shows how much you know," the voice said, "And you forgot to say over. Over."

"What?"

"Can I take that your defiance means that you will not be following orders?" the voice continued, sounding on the brink of laughter, "Over."

"You can damn well take it that way! I don't know who you think you are-" Stryker snarled.

"See?" a deeper voice said, "I told you he was a dickhead."

"Duly noted," the first voice responded.

Kurt's mouth was dry. He would have laughed if the situation wasn't so dire. Sean, who had either lost his head or understood the situation much better than he did, was laughing. Behind him Hank let out a strangled chuckle. The noises didn't seem to be improving Stryker's mood any.

"Who is this?" demanded Stryker, "On whose orders are you acting on? What authority do you have?"

"Now that you won't follow the SHIELD orders, and I was kind of hoping you wouldn't to be honest, I'll let you know," the voice said, "This is Quicksilver of the Avenger's Initiative. I'm acting on my superior's orders, some of Cap's best friends are mutants you know, and I have full authority to kick your ass you sonuvabitch."

Stryker's face changed and Sean let out another laugh.

"You never understood us Stryker," Sean said, "We're a training ground alright; a training ground for heroes."

He smirked.

"You messed with the wrong people's alma mater," Sean said.

A plane streaked across the sky. Kurt vaguely recognized the model, but it seemed to have several adjustments made to it.

"Open fire!" Stryker yelled.

"But sir-" one of the soldiers protested.

"Just do it!"

Apparently their fear of Stryker, or perhaps thier belief in thier cause, was greater than whoever these Avengers were. Bullets flew into the air and Kurt went into action. He teleported behind two soldiers and slashed at their backs, leaving deep wounds. His arms felt like they were made of lead but he could still fight. He had to for his family.

Azazel appeared next to him and gave him a brief nod. The others had engaged the enemy themselves, Magneto using whatever metal appeared to be around. The soldiers must have had more than they thought due to the sheer number of them that were being tossed into the air. Red light shot through them, scattering them to the corners.

As he fought Kurt saw a red cloaked figure jump out of the plane, followed by a woman he thought had green hair. He had seen too many things in the past few days to dismiss it. They were allies though, and Kurt didn't fear his allies. He didn't fear his enemies anymore either; and he knew exactly who his enemy was.

Kurt scanned the crowd for Stryker. He saw him on its fringes, his movements labored. Kurt narrowed his eyes and teleported to him. He arrived there just as Stryker turned around. He immediately shot at him. Kurt jerked his head out of the way in time and continued, his eyes focused solely on him.

Knives dug into his arm. He screamed out loud, the pain making his head spin. He turned and saw Yuriko, her eyes dilated. Metal knives extended from her hands and she lunged for him. Kurt dodged, not wanting to hurt her. At the same time he knew that it was more a question of him being able to land a blow in the first place.

Yuriko moved again, ripping the air with her long nails. Kurt just barely managed to dodge her blows. He wouldn't be able to do it forever. She wasn't tired like she was, and she certainly wasn't bleeding. At the same time Kurt hadn't come this far to be killed by his cellmate and friend.

When her arm came around again he grabbed it. He still didn't know if what he was going to do would work, but it was the best shot he had. No matter what Kurt didn't want Yuriko to get hurt, perhaps even die, because she wasn't in control of herself. She wasn't going to be blamed for something that she couldn't stop. He'd heard enough from Amanda to make him hope this would work.

Kurt teleported to another spot, and then moving again. He continued teleporting rapidly, never stopping for more than a second. He could tell that Yuriko was becoming confused, the sulfur rapidly entering her lungs. Kurt himself was beginning to get disoriented and he teleported all the time. His own limbs felt like they had been left behind. He could only wonder how bad it was for Yuriko.

He finally stopped, his own dizziness overcoming him. He leaned up against a nearby tree for support. Yuriko collapsed to the ground, coughing. She coughed for a few seconds before falling to the ground, unconscious. Kurt smiled to himself. That was done. Now if only the world would stop spinning.

A boot kicked him in the side. Kurt was sent sprawling on the floor, spluttering. Another well-placed kick left him on his back. He looked up in time to see the boot rest heavily on his chest, preventing him from getting up. His eyes focused and he saw Stryker staring furiously down at him, loading his gun.

"I should have had you killed after Boston, freak."

"And if you had, your death would nyet be as quick as now."

Stryker turned and Azazel slammed his sword into Stryker's throat. He ripped it out, showering blood around them. Kurt blinked, looking dizzily up to his father. Azazel's face was calm as he watched Stryker in his death throes, waiting patiently for him to expire. When he had died Azazel turned to Kurt.

"Syn?" he asked, "You are alright?"

Kurt took a deep breath.

"I vill be fine," he managed. 

* * *

><p>Azazel's heart was pounding. The threat was gone. Stryker was dead and his son was, while worse for the wear, alright. Things were back to normal now, or as close as they could be. Calming himself he reached down. Kurt took his father's hand, gripping his arm tightly. Azazel helped him up, patting him on the back.<p>

Kurt coughed once when he got up.

"Now I know vhat Amanda feels all ze time," he said.

"Maybe you go easy next time, da?" Azazel said.

"I cannot efen **zink** about teleporting right now," Kurt said.

Azazel laughed good-naturedly. The woman in red, or scarlet perhaps, walked up. There was something familiar about her, something that Azazel couldn't quite place. She was followed by a man that seemed oddly familiar, a familiarity that was much easier to figure out. He tensed slightly but said nothing.

"She a threat?" Alex Summers asked, pointing to Yuriko.

"Nein," Kurt said, "just had Mastermind serum. Not in control."

"Okay. We'll make sure she's out for the next couple of hours," the woman said.

She knelt down and extended a gloved hand to Yuriko's forehead. Azazel saw a cloud of red light briefly before the woman got up.

"I'm Wanda Maximoff, also known as the Scarlet Witch of the Avengers," she said calmly.

So it was scarlet.

"This is my brother-in-law, Alex," she finished.

"We know each other," Azazel said.

Alex raised his eyebrows.

"Thought you kicked it," he said, jerking his head to Azazel.

He snorted.

"That was point," Azazel replied.

"Thank you for sticking around," said Wanda, "It appears that Magneto and his associate have left, so there are parts of the story we're missing."

"Perhaps later," said Azazel.

The wind rustled and Azazel saw a blur approaching them. The blur solidified and a man wearing green jumpsuit with a lightning bolt on it appeared. He was carrying a woman with green hair, who looked rather surprised at where she was. Again there was that nagging familiarity that hung around them, something he couldn't figure out. It was especially strong around the man.

The green-haired woman smacked his arm when he stopped. He grinned before dropping her. She glared up at him again as Wanda helped her up.

"You're an asshole Pietro," the woman said.

"I know," Pietro said loftily, "But I'm handy in a crisis, right?"

"Your Avenger's clearance certainly is is," said Alex, "But I'd appreciate it if you didn't go around dropping my wife like that. Trust me; you wouldn't like Lorna when she's angry."

"I'm just making up for years of brotherly teasing that she missed out on," Pietro said.

"You missed nothing. Nothing good anyway," Wanda said to Lorna, "Trust me; you were better off as an only child."

"Hey!"

So they were siblings? It explained the shared familiarity but not the source.

"In any case," Scott said loudly, walking over, "We thank you both for coming. You know, when Sean said you'd gone for help Alex, I didn't think he meant you'd go all the way to New York."

"Well, what can I say?" said Alex, throwing an arm around Lorna's shoulders, "I have a well-connected wife. Besides, we needed someone to babysit Nathan."

"Jarvis has many uses," Wanda said, "Although he probably didn't think he'd be called in for babysitting duty when he woke up this morning. The rest would have come too, but they think Fing Fang Foom's starting something up in Indonesia."

"Speaking of which," said Pietro, "We should be going down there with the Quinjet II over there. Just as soon as we get Stryker. Anyone know where he is?"

Azazel moved slightly so they could see his corpse. Pietro let out a slow whistle as Scott's face contorted.

"Sweet," said Pietro.

"I didn't know that the Avengers advocated murder," Scott snapped, reaching them.

Pietro glanced back at him briefly, his eyes cold.

"I was experimented on by Stryker at one point too you know. Although I'm pretty sure you weren't chemically and physically restrained at all times," he said, almost casually, "If you were then you'd know this wasn't murder. It falls under the category of he-had-it-coming."

His words were clearly making Kurt uncomfortable. Azazel himself didn't care for Pietro's attitude. He was taking far too much pleasure in the situation. Azazel had just done it to eliminate a threat. The more he took in Pietro's expression the more he began to wonder if something wasn't quite right with him.

"Pietro," Wanda said sharply.

"Yes yes, stop the come-uppins talk, we're heroes now, whatever," Pietro said.

He cocked his head at Azazel.

"You know, when Wanda and I were in the Brotherhood we used to hear stories about you. The Demon Assassin who ran off to raise his son."

For the first time since he saw him Azazel saw something that wasn't a cocky smirk take over Pietro's face. He gave a dry smile to Kurt.

"How I envy you," he said.

Everything fell into place. Azazel bit the inside of his lip, feeling angry that the man he respected had made the same choice as a woman he had hated. What's more, he had evidentally made it quite a few times.

"Come on Pietro," Wanda said quietly, "We've still got some clean-up to do."

"Okay, okay. But let's do it quickly," said Pietro, "And have someone else deal with Stryker's body. I don't want that filth touching me."

They walked off, the rest following them. Scott paused before leaving and said;

"The Professor wants to talk to you both before you run off with Amanda and Cerise."

Azazel sighed. Everything was getting so complicated. He rubbed his temples before turning to Kurt.

"We should follow, da?"

Kurt paused for a while, looking from Stryker's body to the battleground.

"Vatti," he said finally, "you remember vhere ze van vas, right?"

"Da," Azazel said.

Kurt looked up, his eyes determined.

"Ve need to go zere before zey leave. Zere are…zings I need to say."


	49. Chapter 49

The battlefield allowed Mystique and Erik to slip away quietly. As soon as Erik had ascertained Stryker's death they no longer had a reason to stay. She had lingered for a moment longer than she knew she should, some part of her wanting to stay and say something to her son. Maybe then she could see this girl he had risked everything for, see the child that had been born of this union.

She shook off her feelings. Mystique couldn't stay. The mansion was no longer her home; she had severed all ties that day in Cuba. Azazel was no longer her lover, he had made that quite clear when he returned searching for Kurt. As for Kurt, whatever he had been, whatever he could have been, that ship had sailed long ago. Accordingly nothing he had had anything to do with her anymore either.

Not yet feeling safe Mystique held out on shifting back to her skin. Erik said nothing as they approached their van but she knew his brain was whirring away, formulating ideas and schemes. There would be a new plot now, a new way to use this incident to rally others to their cause. They might send a spy into the school. Some of the students would be easy pickings for recruitment to the Brotherhood after this.

She went for the door to the van, ready to take off again.

"And nyet goodbye?"

Mystique sighed and turned around. Erik paused, leaning against the van.

"And get taken in by Xavier's pets or the Avengers?" asked Erik, "I think not."

Azazel gave him a hard look, his tail swishing back and forth. Kurt stood next to him, his hands shoved in his pockets. His arm had been hastily bandaged and he looked off into the distance. Mystique swallowed the lump in her throat and crossed her arms. She glared balefully at Azazel, but he was ignoring her.

"I used to wonder," he said, "to think you would be good father if given opportunity. But I was wrong, da?"

Erik stiffened, his fist clenched. Mystique threw a questioning look at him before gazing back at Azazel.

"Bravo," he said.

"Three children," Azazel said, "Girls it is little hard to see, but I would have to be blind not to notice syn. Spitting image."

A sneer crossed Azazel's features.

"Two Avengers," he said, "And other is married to X-man, if nyet X-man self too. You abandoned **three**."

Azazel spat.

"I used to respect," he said, "Nyet anymore."

There was a long pause. Erik looked up and Mystique could see that his eyes had gone cold. His face drew together and she thought she heard the scraping of metal from the van.

"It's very well for you to say that, when you took the easy way out," Erik said.

"Oh, da, da," Azazel said, "Say it was easy way so you can justify self. Say that you are noble crusader and that it was your sacrifice."

He looked between the two of them. Mystique glanced at Kurt, whose eyes had glazed over slightly. She wondered if any of the proceedings had made it through to him. He had shut down before the fight, maybe he had done the same now.

"But it was nyet your sacrifice," said Azazel, "One who suffered was children. Or maybe I am wrong. Maybe it was better this way…for **them**. Maybe would have suffered more if someone like you was father."

Metal was definitely crunching now. Hesitantly Mystique put a hand on Erik's shoulder. His head jerked up and she wondered if perhaps that day would be the one that Azazel died. She couldn't let that happen though. For all Kurt knew he was his only family, and she figured she owed him at least that.

Overcoming her own feelings on the subject, and shock over the fact that Erik indeed had children, she whispered;

"Erik, we need to get moving."

His fist slowly unclenched. Erik shot a venomous glance at Azazel and drew himself up.

"Someone like you will never understand. You think that these last few months was the only time a father chased after a son, a child was born to a mother with doubts of her husband's safety, and children were chased through the night?" Erik said bitterly, "It's a story that happens every day, and will continue to happen. Every day our kind is persecuted by these people. These Sentinels? They're the start. Go back and live your life; you and your son. Then wait for the day that they knock on your door, and this time no one will be there to save you. Any sacrifice is worth preventing that, postponing it for even a day. Any sacrifice."

For a minute Mystique thought that Azazel would answer. Instead Kurt's eyes focused. He gave Erik a look that seemed somewhere between despair and pity.

"Ja, it is," said Kurt quietly, "Or it vould be, if vhat you vere doing vas actually helping."

The clearing went dead silent. No one had expected him to speak, not even his father.

"Vhen ve push somezing to its brink," he said, "Eferyvone suffers. Ze adults, ze children, eferyvone."

"Better them than us," Erik snapped.

"Nein! Somevone has to decide to be ze better man," Kurt countered fiercely, "Or eferyvone vill be lost. Xavier hast chosen zat route, not because it is **easy**. Because he has to draw ze line. No one else vill."

She saw Erik go slightly pale, Charles' words echoed back at him.

"Gott has taught us mercy and forgifeness. Ja, forgifeness," said Kurt, his voice quiet again, "Und maybe vone day I vill be able to forgife vhat happened here. Gott knows zat I haf forgifen ozzer zings in mien life."

"Greater than being locked up and tortured?" Erik said, his voice biting.

"In a vay," said Kurt.

His golden eyes locked with hers.

"I know vhy you did vhat you did," he said, "Und I understand it. I am not mad at you, not really. I am only sad that you thought spreading the feelings you yourself had; the loss of friends, family, comrades, vould help."

She swallowed, feeling something inside her crumble. Mystique looked at Azazel, wanting to hate him for telling Kurt. He seemed just as surprised as her though.

"I am sad zat you vould not say anyzing to me vhen you finally met me," Kurt continued on, "Und I am sad zat you vill probably nefer bring yourself to see my vife und daughter, your granddaughter. Zat ist vhat makes me sad. In ze end I cannot be mad at you, not vhen zere is so much more to be sad for."

He fixed her with a desperate look.

"But bitte," he said, "could you at least let me know vhat you really look like?"

Mystique swallowed again. She knew that she had to be strong; not run like she wanted to. Her decision had already been made, even if she had just been a foolish woman when it had happened. Knowing what she knew now she probably would have still made that choice. At the same time, his request was a simple one.

Mystique relaxed and let her skin change back to its scaly blue form. It was the same skin that covered Kurt. Her eyes went to their natural gold, the gold that he shared, her hair to its fiery red. She stared back at her son, giving him a fixed look. Kurt stared back at her sadly and nodded.

"Danke," he said.

Taking a deep breath she found her voice.

"It's the only thing you've ever asked of me," she said, "And it's so small. I can't believe **he** raised you to be so selfless."

She had expected Azazel to snap something at her but he remained silent. Kurt just shook his head.

"Sometimes people can find it in zem to be somezing ozzer zan vhat eferyvone expects," he said, "vhen zey vant it und care enough."

Kurt smiled, a sad expression. Mystique wondered if she would ever be in a position to see her son genuinely happy. She doubted it.

"But danke," he said, "I mean zat."

Mystique nodded.

"I know you do."

Azazel reached out and put an arm around Kurt's shoulder. He nodded to his son before turning back to Erik and Mystique.

"Spaseebo balshoye for helping find syn," Azazel said, "Dasvidanya."

"Auf wiedersehen," said Kurt quietly, looking directly at Mystique.

In a puff of black smoke they disappeared. Erik pushed himself off the van angrily and walked to the other side of the van. The door jerked open and he got inside. Feeling oddly numb Mystique got in. She started the engine and the two of them began to drive away. It wasn't until miles later that Erik said;

"We will never speak of this again."

She gave him a side glance.

"I was demand to ask the same thing."

He nodded and stared out the window. Mystique glanced fleetingly out of the review mirror. Just because they would never speak of it didn't mean that she wouldn't think about it. She had a feeling that it would never really leave her, a regret and sadness that she would carry in her heart forever. 

* * *

><p>Azazel teleported Kurt into the lobby of the mansion. They had stopped beforehand, allowing Kurt to cry silently for a few minutes. Azazel had said nothing, although Kurt knew that he was still angry at his mother and at Magneto. However, he had remained in sympathetic silence. If nothing else his father knew that it was no time for words. As always, his father was there for him.<p>

After a while Kurt had wiped his eyes and nodded. Azazel took them to the school then. A few students started at their appearance, but got on with their work. They were moving back in. Kurt had to admire how fast Xavier worked. He'd gotten nearly all of his students evacuated and then had them return in a mere matter of hours.

"Ah, Azazel. And I assume you are Kurt."

Feeling a deep exhaustion set in, both emotional and physical, Kurt turned. All he wanted to do was find his wife and child, hold them in his arms, but there was so much going on now. It wasn't just about what he wanted in the end, although he ached to make sure that they were safe. He had to push it down; to not let his panic at the illusion Stryker had tortured him with to win out.

As he expected a man in a wheelchair was being pushed into the room by Scott. Kurt knew it was his uncle, the brother of the woman he had just confronted in the woods. His expression was soft but a little sad. The flicker of hope was what made it stand out in Kurt's eyes though.

He swallowed like he was preparing to say something. Kurt found that he wanted to save the man the trouble of explaining his painful connection to Kurt. It was unnecessary and Kurt didn't want to cause anyone any pain that day.

"Ja onkel," he said.

Xavier blinked, surprised. He smiled slightly.

"Well, there's that taken care of," he said, "I suppose I should go directly to my offer for you and your family to stay. I understand it's too dangerous for you to return to the monastery."

Kurt gave a questioning look at Azazel who nodded slightly. It was embarrassing but Kurt hadn't thought that far ahead. Certainly in the beginning he'd had vague dreams of going home. That had been replaced with the black hole of depression he had fallen into after his belief that his wife and child were dead. After that he hadn't thought it out.

"I vill haf to zink about zat," Kurt said slowly, "Zis ist…vell, you must admit mien first impression of ze school vas vhen it vas under siege."

"Not our best moment, I'll agree," Xavier said, suppressing another smile, "I can assure you that it's only happened this once, but you're right. It's not the kind of conditions we prefer to advertise during our open house."

Azazel let out a snort of laughter. The ends of Kurt's lips twitched upwards. The exhaustion set in and it was making him feel giddy. Even so Xavier was right. The school was a nice place; he could see that even with the injured soldiers and remains of the Sentinels that littered the grounds. The students had been well protected even when the soldiers were storming the area. He wasn't going to dismiss it just because of a one-time incident where it had defended itself exceptionally.

"You must understand," Kurt managed, "It hast been ein **very **long day-"

"Understatement of century," snorted Azazel.

"-**und**," Kurt said, "I vould like to zink about zis for a little vhile. Alzough I am deeply indebted to you, und very grateful for vhat you haf done."

"It was an honor," said Xavier, "But I believe there's something you're much more interested in than thanking me."

He was right. There was something much more important that he wanted to ask about. Somewhere in that building were his wife and child. The syllables died in his throat when he went to ask for them though. The images of Amanda's dead body flooded his senses, as did the feel of her blood on his face.

Swallowing hard he forced the syllables to his lips. They died again, but not because of him. A voice interrupted them, like the call of an angel.

"Charles, Rogue thinks she lost her shoes outside-"

Terrified Kurt turned slowly. If it turned out he was dreaming then he would rather die than wake to the harsh reality. However, he knew it was real. He knew that Amanda really stood at the top of the staircase, her golden hair flowing down her shoulders. She stopped speaking abruptly, staring at him with her beautiful blue-green eyes.

"Kurt," she whispered, tears gathering in her eyes.

"Ja liebling," he said, "Ja." 

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **Only two more chapters left to go. _


	50. Chapter 50

Her world had turned upside down. A few seconds ago everything had been normal; she'd just been mentioning some lost items. Now she felt like any moment she could sink through the floor like Kitty. She heard voices saying something, but she wasn't hearing them. Not really. Amanda felt fireworks going off in her head, but they were muted and gentle. Everything was changing, and yet no one had moved.

Kurt's eyes held hers. They were warm and familiar, something she could and wanted very much to lose herself in. After all those months, all that time, he was so close to her. Vaguely she reached out her hand before pulling it back. He wasn't that close to her and she wanted more than anything to rectify that.

The next thing she knew she was running, practically falling down the stairs. Kurt raced up and she collapsed into his arms. He smelt like smoke and blood, like the war that had threatened to destroy everything she held dear. She didn't care though. She didn't care because he was there in her arms, holding her and whispering her name.

Some sort of barrier had been ripped away. They were no longer holding each other by their eyes in that strange world she had entered when she'd first seen him. It had all bubbled to the surface, all the emotions she had kept bottled up over the past months. His lips were moving all over her face and she was crying, though for the life of her she couldn't figure out why.

Her nails dug into his back, trying to ascertain that he was real. She knew that he was doing the same to her, pressing her close to him. She could have sworn that there wasn't an inch in between them. Amanda ran her hands over his skin, feeling the ugly scar on his neck and the bandage on his arm. He'd been hurt but he was here with her now, so that was alright. Everything was alright now.

Choking back another sob she pulled away from him slightly. He cupped her face, brushing away her tears and pressing his forehead to hers.

"You haf no idea how much I missed you," he whispered.

"I think I have an idea," she managed.

He pulled away again, although she could see the reluctance on his face. From behind him Azazel smiled.

"What did I tell you nevetska?" he asked, "Within month."

Amanda gave a choked laugh.

"Within the month," she agreed.

She laughed again, basking in the joy that ran through her. Amanda went to pull him close again before a thought urgently pushed out all others. Her mouth abruptly went dry. How could she have forgotten? She grabbed Kurt's arms, looking him in the eyes. Amanda licked her lips before she uttered one of the most important words in the world;

"Cerise."

His eyes widened before becoming focused and desperate. Amanda grabbed his hand and began running up the stairs. Wordlessly he followed her up, the feel of his hand solidly in hers. Just the familiarity of moving her five fingers to accommodate his three made her want to start crying again. After months away from him, worrying about him, he was really holding her hand, really here with her.

Amanda didn't cry though. Crying would mean stopping and she couldn't stop. Two people needed to meet and she was the one who had to facilitate that. After all of those lingering doubts Blue was finally going to know her father. The photographs would be memories, not a desperate attempt to preserve his role in her life.

She stopped by the door to the nursery to catch her breath. Kurt's eyes met hers and that same desperation was there. Amanda smiled, feeling both proud and somewhat sheepish. She couldn't explain the emotion, but figured it was just as well. The next moment was for him; him and his daughter. She knew that she was a mere mediator in the moment.

Quietly she opened the door and led him in. Kurt's tail closed it behind them. His eyes fixed on the crib and she saw him swallow. Her grip on his hand tightened and she walked him up to the edge of the crib. Any minute now Amanda knew he was going to see her daughter. He closed his eyes at the last minute though, muttering something in German. Amanda recognized the words as a prayer, although she didn't understand.

Reaching up she touched his face.

"Kurt, it's your daughter," she said reassuringly.

He opened his eyes. Blue lay there, asleep and changed into one of the lace dresses Amanda had bought for her with Rogue. The warm clothes had been unsuited to her now that they weren't travelling anymore. Her black hair spread out behind her, providing a pillow. Blue yawned and pawed at the air. She opened her eyes, Hank's drug wearing off at last. Kurt reached for her but hesitated at the last minute.

Amanda didn't understand his hesitation. It confused her. Surely he wanted to hold his daughter? What was he worried about? She wanted to tell him it was okay, that he could hold her. Blue got there first. Later she wondered if it was Kurt's dark blue skin that attracted her, so much like it was her own. Or maybe it was that she'd simply recognized her father. Either way she reached for him.

Almost immediately Kurt reached down. He scooped her up in his arms and held her to his chest. She gave a small cooing noise, surprised by the sudden action. However, she soon settled down into his arms, retracting her chubby little arms to her chest. Kurt's eyes filled with wonder as he rocked her back and forth.

"She ist so beautiful," he murmured.

He looked up at her.

"Just like her mother."

Amanda smiled and wrapped her arms around Kurt's neck.

"I think she looks more like her papa," said Amanda, "I would tell anyone who would listen. They all got sick of hearing it after a while."

Kurt laughed, a strangled sound. Blue yawned and fell back asleep, her mouth opening once or twice.

"She likes to sleep during the day," Amanda said, "Little nocturnal baby. Not exactly the best for young parents."

He nodded but swallowed.

"I…I do not vant to vake her," he murmered.

"It's okay," said Amanda reassuringly, "She's a heavy sleeper. You just need to put her back in her crib. She's right particular."

Kurt nodded again and laid her down. One of his hands stroked her cheek before retracting. Seeing that he was still dazed Amanda clasped his hand again. Gently she led him to the room next door. Blue needed some peace and quiet, and from Kurt's condition she could tell that he did too. It had been a long day for everyone. She wasn't going to let him go though. No one could ask her to do that.

Still being gentle, unlike earlier afraid he would disappear if she held him too tight, they sat on the edge of her bed.

"I haf a daughter," he said wonderingly.

"One whose hair I'm going to have to start braiding soon," Amanda laughed.

Kurt didn't laugh with her, just held her hands tighter. Feeling that she was required to speak Amanda cleared her throat.

"I slept several nights in the nursery, but we're connected through the baby monitors your uncle got us," she said, "I can hear her if she starts crying."

He nodded but didn't respond.

"I've named a godmother," said Amanda, "You'll like her. She's a student here named Rogue, well, she calls herself that. We bonded over vampire books. I know it sounds silly but she really helped me when I first came here. She's been a good friend, and she adores Blue."

He nodded again, looking absently into the distance. She licked her lips, confused.

"Blue's middle name is Marie for her," said Amanda, "I know there's a custom where the godmother and godfather get the child's middle names. Our daughter's going to be named after everyone, isn't she? She's going to hate signing her full name."

Amanda paused, mulling over her last statement.

"She's not officially named yet, of course," she added hastily, "I didn't want to have the christening without you."

He still didn't say anything. His eyes were pointed downwards, his thumb rubbing circles on her hand. Amanda was starting to get worried. Kurt was never this quiet. She could tell he wanted to say something, but at the same time he didn't want to. Feeling worried for her husband Amanda said;

"I…I was thinking we could name your uncle her godfather," she said, "He's done so much for us. I know you know that…but you should see him with Blue. Plus, it helps to be connected with someone who owns a school. You know, for when she's older."

Amanda racked her brains, trying to think of something else to say.

"He offered to let us stay," Kurt said suddenly.

She looked up, both relieved and startled by his sudden declaration.

"Oh," she said, "Oh."

"You are surprised?" asked Kurt.

"Not really," she admitted.

Amanda had known it was coming. The way he looked at her and her daughter was enough to tell her. He wanted family again, desperate for it like a man dying of thirst was for a glass of water. She'd had a long time to think about it. Still, she didn't know what Kurt wanted to do. Phrasing her words carefully she said;

"Do you want to?"

"You haf been here longer zan I haf," he said, "Und you haf friends here. I suppose zat it ist good place. Vhat do you zink liebling?"

Slowly she brought their hands up, still holding his tightly. Amanda kissed the back of his hand before moving herself closer to him.

"Kurt," she said, "when I was giving birth to Blue there were complications. They say she's going to be a teleporter; she's got so much sulfur in her. And, well, sulfur doesn't mix well with my blood."

His eyes widened. He gripped her hands to the point where he was nearly hurting her. She smiled weakly.

"I'm fine," she said, "I'm fine. But I was scared then and I felt so weak. And the Professor…I'm not sure how he did it, telepaths you know, but he brought a memory up to my mind to help me. And it was us right after the wedding."

Although tears had already stained her cheeks she felt more in her eyes.

"That's what gave me the strength to go on," she said, "The thought of us, being together, having a** life **together."

She kissed his hand again. Amanda moved herself closer again until she was touching his shoulder. She smiled at him, letting her eyes meet his.

"I've seen my life without you, and I don't want it," she said, "Now the only thing I want out of life now is to be somewhere with you, with our daughter. The where doesn't matter Kurt. Not as long as we're all together."

Kurt leaned his forehead into hers. She basked there for a moment, feeling his breath on her face. Then his arms shot forward and he pulled her into his lap. Amanda stifled a gasp from the violence of the action as he held her to him. His nails dug into her arms and she breathed out. One of her hands stroked his face, feeling her heart break for whatever pain he was going through.

"What's wrong?" she whispered.

He gave a shuddering breath.

"Vhen…vhen I vas captured," he said, "Zey vanted me to do somezing but could not control me. So…I still do not know…I zink somezing vith ein telepath, somezing like zat. But I saw…I saw…"

He trailed off. Somehow Amanda knew what he was going to say and she had to bite her lip to keep from crying. Composing herself she whispered;

"You don't have to tell me."

"Nein, I do," he said.

Kurt took another breath.

"I vatched you die," he said, "Die vith our child inside you. Und for ze longest time I zought zat zat vas vhat had happened. Zat I had lost you, lost you both."

He kissed her forehead.

"I know zat I am not as carefree as I vas," he said, "Zat I am different now because I haf seen vhat it takes to make me gif up…und…und…"

She turned in his lap, gripping his face with both her hands. Amanda looked him in his golden eyes, never wanting him to finish his sentence.

"So have I," she said, "and I've seen what it takes to keep me going."

Amanda kissed his cheek, sliding her hands to his chest.

"Kurt; you're right. You haven't come out of this unchanged," she said, "But neither have I. We've both changed, and that's what it's all about isn't it? Living with each other while we change, accepting that, accepting each other."

He pressed his forehead to hers again.

"Liebling," he said, "mien Gott liebling I just…I just…"

Amanda tilted her head and kissed his lips fiercely, feeling his moving beneath hers. His lips parted and she tasted his tongue against her teeth. One of his hands moved to her back and she felt its warmth pressing up against her through her dress. She pulled away, laying kisses over his face.

"I'm here Kurt," she said, "I'm here."

Not letting go he moved her to her back. His lips descended on hers again and she buried her hands in his hair. One of his hands moved along her side, pulling her ever closer to him.

"I'm here," she gasped, knowing she needed to reassure him, "I'm here."

"I know liebling," Kurt said, his breath warming her skin, "Ich liebe dich von ganzem herzen moyo solnyshko. Forever."

"Forever," she agreed.

With a deep sigh he fell into her arms, and there was no more talking.


	51. Chapter 51

Kurt awoke and looked up from where his face was buried in his wife's hair. Outside the sun was setting, bringing dusk. He wondered what had woken him up when he heard noises over what Amanda called the baby monitor. Focusing a bit more he could make out his daughter's quiet cries.

Next to him Amanda remained asleep. He took in the dark circles under her eyes, wondering when the last time she had slept soundly was. Kurt had always needed less sleep than her, not something that could be explained. Still, he considered it an honor to go and soothe his daughter. He'd missed out on nearly three weeks of her life already.

Trying not to wake her he left the bed. Kurt put on some clothes and threw a robe around his shoulders. He teleported to the next room. Blue gave a startled cry when he appeared, but the cry soon dissolved into what he thought was giggles. Smiling he picked her up, trying not to be as abrupt as when he had first held her.

"You vill learn to love ze teleporting little vone," he assured her, "It vill make life so much easier. I am sorry you do not haf tail, but zat cannot be helped. At least you vill not haf to tailor clothes."

Blue blinked at him, obviously not paying attention to the slightest thing he was saying. He hadn't expected her to. Smiling he began to lay her back down into the crib. Seeing his actions Blue let out a cry of protest. His smile turned into a frown as he picked her back up, quieting her cries.

"You are very picky little vone," he said, "You must haf gifen your mutter quite ze time vhile I vas gone. Vhat vill it take you to go back to sleep?"

His daughter stared at him, no answer forthcoming. Kurt sighed and opened the door to the nursery. Seeing no one in the halls he walked down stairs. If she wouldn't go back to sleep then he knew he wouldn't be able to either. He couldn't keep her in the nursery; her cries when he did try to put her back in the cradle would just wake up Amanda.

Yawning he walked down the stairs. There were a few students but they didn't so much as look up at his presence. Most of them were dozing off. They must have been up all night and been given the day to rest. It was a smart move on his uncle's part, although he wondered how many of them would be leaving as a result of the attack on the school.

Shaking his head he went into the kitchen. An empty carton of ice cream stood on the table with a spoon in it. The word 'Bobby' was written in black marker on the side. Kurt shrugged before he started making himself some tea. His actions weren't going to put Blue to sleep, but at least she was occupied.

Kurt put the kettle on the stove and began looking in the cupboard for tea bags. A black explosion next to him made him draw back. Blue gave another little cry and then giggled. Kurt readjusted his grip on her as his father cocked his head. He laughed, his mirth mixing with his granddaughter's.

"Ah, she knows what is good," Azazel said, patting her on the head.

"She ist smart," said Kurt, "But does not seem to understand zat people need to sleep during ze night."

Azazel raised his eyebrows.

"Neither did you," he said.

He blinked.

"Vhat? You nefer told me zis."

"A person does nyet like to tell of stories where all night they had to be up to find way to get baby to sleep," Azazel snorted, "But I will give you tip I would have died for in first few months; lemon."

"Lemon," repeated Kurt.

"Da," said Azazel, "Lemon scent."

"I zought zat zat ist supposed to make you stay avake," Kurt pointed out.

"Maybe for other people, but nyet for you," Azazel shrugged, taking a seat at the table, "Put you to sleep very fast."

Kurt gave Blue a calculating glance. He went into the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of lemon juice. He poured it into a cup and put it near Blue, careful not to spill any on her. Her tiny nostrils flared and she blinked. Kurt watched in amazement as, after a few seconds, she yawned and her eyes closed.

"Mien Gott," said Kurt, turning to his father appreciatively.

"See?" Azazel said, "There were nyet many lemons in mountains, but always kept bottle of juice around. It is why we are nyet nocturnal."

Shaking his head Kurt took the kettle off the stove. He tilted his head back to his father.

"Do you vant some?" he asked.

"Da," Azazel said, "Nyet sugar."

"You nefer haf taken sugar," Kurt said.

He made up the tea and put a cup in front of his father. Moving Blue slightly Kurt took a deep sip of his own cup.

"So," said Azazel, "where is nevetska?"

"Asleep," Kurt replied.

Azazel smirked.

"I bet she is."

"Vatti," Kurt sighed.

"I am right, am I nyet?" said Azazel, "Besides, it is nyet like I am objecting. You miss her, she miss you, that sort of thing."

"Zere ist a baby in the room," murmured Kurt.

With great exaggeration Azazel leaned over the table and peered at Blue.

"So there is!" he said in mock-surprise.

Rolling his eyes Kurt leaned back in his chair. He looked around the kitchen. It was much bigger than the one that they had had in their cabin. The whole house could have fit five or six of their cabins in fact. He wasn't sure that size should be such an important decision in a house, especially when there was only four of them. Still, a bigger house did have its advantages and, unlike the cabin he was used to, it wasn't entirely cut off from the world.

Not to mention that Amanda was right; it was a school. If they stayed there Blue could grow up in a safe environment. In a few years his daughter would, unlike him, be able to go to school with other children. It was certainly something to think about. The only objection he could really think of it was the man sitting across from him.

"Vatti," he said, "About vhat mien onkel said earlier…"

Azazel put his cup down and folded his hands in front of him. His expression was serious and Kurt swallowed.

"Vhat do you zink of it?" he asked, "I know zat you und him are not enemies anymore, but I vanted to know vhat you zought of ze offer."

His father leaned back, his lips pursed. Kurt was glad that he hadn't dismissed it right off, but Kurt had never been any good at telling what his father was thinking when he made that face.

"You are right," Azazel said carefully, as though every word was difficult to manage, "He and I are nyet enemies anymore. And he is good man. He and I…probably he is little shocked on who baby sister chose to father child. But still."

He took a large swallow of tea before putting the cup down.

"He call me when had lead on you," he said, "That is how I find. He did nyet send his people, he come straight to me. I appreciate this."

The information was new to Kurt. He would have to thank Xavier for that. If it had been anyone else he would have fled. God forbid that he would have sent Amanda after him. Kurt would have thought it was her ghost and there would have been no bringing him back from madness then.

"He will nyet let anything happen to anyone he wants to protect," continued Azazel, "You saw how school was defended. As I say, good man."

"Ja," said Kurt, "Amanda suggested zat ve make him Blue's godfather. She hast already picked out godmother."

Azazel tilted his head, nodding it slowly.

"Da, he will make good godfather," said Azazel, "Christening must be soon. Cerise is lucky, but after incident with soldiers I think best get baptized quickly."

Kurt managed a laugh but didn't say anything. He didn't like to think about how much danger Amanda and Blue had been in. Still, the only times they had ever been in danger was when they were surrounded by those with the powers to protect them. It still wasn't the best thing to think about.

"But good godfather," Azazel said, "Best choice."

Kurt waited for the other shoe to drop. His father clung to his opinions strongly. If someone made an enemy of him then they did so for life. He wouldn't be able to continue to endorse Xavier forever. His father must have understood his expression because he gave a soft laugh and shook his head.

"I know that maybe you think I am just appeasing. But I have always respected, even though I preferred Magneto's approach. Respected him more," said Azazel, "But after what I find out about Magneto…three children, three! One is bad enough but…"

Azazel's face was a picture of disgust. From experience Kurt knew that he would have spit if he was outside having this conversation.

"I used to nyet trust Xavier because I think he was fool and different from me," said Azazel, "But of the two…"

He shook his head.

"I doubt Xavier would abandon any reboynak of his. Like me in that way. Very different, but we both understand that," he said, "If something like that happened, some long lost reboynak, it would be because he did nyet know. And I think he would never stop chasing after them. I know that…"

Azazel hesitated before continuing.

"I know he has never given up on your mother," said Azazel, "or his friend. It may be foolish to hope that they will all be fine again, but he knows this. I think this takes something, some faith. They have both tried to kill on occasion."

Swallowing hard Kurt looked down at Blue. She was asleep now, her mouth opening and closing as though she were a guppy. He heard his father's chair scrape the floor. Azazel walked over and stood next to Kurt, looking over his shoulder at her. He reached down and stroked her hair briefly before retracting his hand.

"I vill not understand mien mutter," Kurt said quietly, "Nefer. I understand ze need to fight, und I vill fight. I vowed zat I vould do eferyzing in mien power to stop vhat Stryker did to me from happening to ozzers. But it vill be vith people I know are trying to end conflict, not prolong."

Kurt shook his head and sighed.

"I forgafe her," he said, "but I vill not understand…I haf just seen mien daughter, but all I vant ist to see her grow up und be zere for her. I do not understand how she could…"

His father sighed.

"If it helps," he said, "I do nyet think it was easy for her."

He looked up, surprised to hear his father say something in defense of his mother.

"The fact she could make decision at all disgusts me, da, but I do nyet think it was easy," Azazel said, "Nyet anymore. It was wrong of me to think so. But it was still bad decision. At same time I feel bad for her."

His expression softened as he looked at Blue.

"She will never know granddaughter," he said.

Azazel looked up so his blue eyes met Kurt's gold ones.

"She will nyet know syn either," he said, "This is her loss Kurt. Neither of us took an easy road, but this was one with real reward. In some ways I pity, because her road has only led to bitterness."

Managing a smile Kurt put his free hand on his father's shoulder.

"Danke vatti," he said.

"Do nyet mention," Azazel replied.

He sat down, this time in a chair that was nearer to Kurt. He looked around.

"This is nyet St. Christopher's," he said, "There are nyet monks and I hear some very colorful language in hall."

Azazel grinned.

"But does nyet mean this is nyet good," he said, "This is good place and I think it is previous generation's…duty, da, duty, to make things better for first. You have already done improvement."

"Really?" Kurt asked.

"Da," said Azazel, "I was raised only by father for only little bit of childhood. You were raised by father for all childhood. She will be raised by both parents for all childhood. Improvement, da?"

Kurt had to smile at that.

"And now, there is chance for more,"Azazel said, "I had to run around streets; you had to stay within mountains. Maybe she will go different places. I could never go to school. You had one teacher, school but nyet other children. Cerise will have teacher, school, and children if we stay. There are possibilities, both for us and Cerise."

Kurt nodded, looking back down to his daughter. He turned back to his father, knowing that his decision to stay was reflected in his eyes.

"Good for you malchik moy," said Azazel, holding out his hand, "I know you make good decision for child."

Kurt had to grin at that as he took Azazel's hand and got up.

"I learned from best," he said. 

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **And that's the end folks! I have to say, this fic was fun to write. After I wrote the 'X-Force' I wanted to do a kind of alternate world where Azazel would have a shot at raising Kurt. Having Stryker was fun too, seeing the lengths that Azazel was willing to go to for his son. It was nice to do a bit more exploration along that idea. As for anyone who wonders what might have happened if Erik had had a shot at raising Lorna, well, your time will come. _

_I'm a big fan of Kurt/Amanda. They really did have a daughter in one reality and were really changed by meeting each other. The main focus of this story was the relationship between Kurt and Azazel, but I thought Blue was a nice paralell. Kurt really did learn how to be a father from his, and to make the choices. His philosophies about being a father have come from Azazel and they were close, having the child named after him was one display. The sad thing is that the girl would have been named Raven if she'd tried to be involved in his life, but it's just another way she missed out when she chose to stay with the Brotherhood. _

_In any case I'm going to be doing a one-shot story in a few days. After that I'm going to be doing a multi-chapter Charles/Moira fic. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, and a special shout-out to ShiroNeko316 , Coyote Blues, moms5thchild , and noamg!_


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